Morphine
by computasaysnoo
Summary: Dr. Jasper Whitlock, an attending surgeon at a hospital in Seattle, finds that his life has become an endless cycle of surgery, sleep, and more surgery. However when Edward stumbles into his life one night, he begins to realize what is truly important. M/M Slash, Mature Scenes, Sexual Content.
1. Tequila and Morphine

Weeeeeelcoome *waving arm motion.* No, you haven't clicked on a Poltergeist fic, your eyes haven't deceived you, that was just my best attempt at a witty opening remark. Aaanyway, I hope you guys enjoy this.

But before starting, here's the boring bit: _Disclaimer_: Stephanie Meyer created all these characters, not I, even though I like to pretend otherwise. But a guy can dream right? But if you do try to sue me, feel free to take my students loans. Just saying.

Also, this story contains Jasper and Edward M/M scenes, mature sexual scenes, medical/surgical descriptions and cursing. So if that's not your cup of tea then I suggest you go for coffee.

Where were we? Oh yes, the story. Enjoy!

* * *

"Apply the iodine."

"Get the anesthesiologist."

"Her vitals are dropping."

"He's rejecting it."

"His heart is stopping"

"Get the panels."

"Clear."

_Clear_. Despite hearing that word almost every day in the hospital environment, from behind the milky blue curtains or the thick doors of the OR, I couldn't help but think it ironic that a person like me would be completely surrounded by that word. I mean, _me_, _clear_? It was all sorts of funny, ridiculous, and even just plain inaccurate. There wasn't a single aspect of myself that I could say was "clear." Well okay, maybe I lie a little, so there were a _few_ things I was clear on, but for the most part, I wasn't certain of anything in my life. I wasn't certain that I was living where I wanted to live; I wasn't certain whether I was working in the profession I wanted; I wasn't even certain if I was happy, or lonely, or just completely indifferent towards life entirely. I guess I just wanted to break the mould a little, live a life that wasn't fettered to the demands of my oath. I was still young. I mean, if they still consider 26 young nowadays. Err, that sounded old of me, didn't it?

So let's not get the wrong impression here. There were parts of my job that I loved. I loved helping a patient recover and seeing him or her wake up after surgery to be hugged by cheerful family members. I loved being able to tell a man who thought his days were numbered that he'd have many more years ahead of him, to perhaps travel the world, or meet the woman of his dreams. I loved giving new life to a person on the waiting list by successfully transplanting the needed organ into him. I guess what I loved about my job was helping others, and that's why I became a surgeon.

Although surgeon life was demanding and had caused me to have a total of fourteen hours sleep per week, I also missed the simple things like going out for a drink when I wanted, or meeting new people during nights out at my own leisure. You'd be surprised; my job, and the work it took to _get_ my job, claimed a lot of my college years, and so I never had "the college experience," or the "partying days." When my friends went out with this in mind, I - being the dedicated aspiring med-student - remained in the library and studied. So despite my life experience and age - which I still argue is very young! - I wasn't the most confident or self-secure of guys. I had my problems, like everyone, but the difference was that I just didn't really have anyone to share these problems with.

Which leads me to issue number 1,453. There was no denying that my list of confidants had whittled down a great deal since I'd moved to Seattle. Who was left on it was my cat, Bierce Fitch; my pet parrot, Pterodactyl, and my frenemy Emmett, who lived in the apartment next to me. Note that I listed him after my animals.

For the last four years, it's been just the three of us - with the occasional visit from Emmett. My social life was evidently barren, and I guess I kept making excuses for that. When I'd see interns move here for the first time and make friends within days of arrival, I'd usually just think of reasons why I'd never been like that. Usually I'd tell myself "I'm just too busy to put myself out there," or "they're much younger and have more time to make friends." But the truth was that I didn't like rejection. I didn't want to start a friendship, because not having one was better than losing one, or certainly better than failing to make one. So I just took myself out of the equation altogether and stayed to myself.

I did feel exceptionally lonely, however, when I'd sing songs like "Fast car" by Tracy Chapman or "People Help the People" by Cherry Ghost alone in my car on the way home, with the city lights laid out before me, but with the absence of an arm feeling nice wrapped 'round my shoulder. So yeah, I didn't real feel like I could share my moments with people, because in all honesty, I felt a little isolated _from_ people in this metropolitan area of three million inhabitants. Ironic, yes. Clear, no.

So I guess the final thing I could mention is the gay thing. Oh yes. Well for the most part, only my family, Bierce Fitch and Emmet knew; I was still weaning Pterodactyl onto the idea. The reason for this was that I didn't want to shock him too much. My apprehension to break the news to Ptero was reflective of my relations with colleagues or acquaintances in my day-to-day life. I never broadcasted my sexuality to anyone, not because I was in the closet per-say, but more-so because there was no-one around to ask me, or for me to tell. But at least those who I _did_ have, knew. Now that we've reached this subject, I may as well just come out - heh, sorry - and say that just because my life was dictated by that loud mouth nurse, Irene, who called me whenever a patient as much as sneezed, I wasn't completely devoid of a sex life. I did my best to keep my morale high by going to local bars during my unpredictable off-hours and meeting guys who piqued my interest... or anything else for that matter. But this didn't happen as often as I would've liked. In fact, it barely happened at all.

My job was a well-paying one, so I had the luxury of coming home to an apartment that contributed to Seattle's golden skyline and sat just beneath the Space Needle itself. Bierce Fitch especially loved the view; this was most evident when she'd bat the window when birds would appear outside. As if she had a chance. Oh poor Bierce Fitch, my heart really did go out to her sometimes. _Sigh_. As for Pterotactyl, he'd usually fly at the window when he saw other birds, with, so I believed, the intentions of mating with them. The little bastard had developed a golden tongue for the chicks lately, since he'd learned how to regurgitate my words and spew them at miscellaneous crows that flew by. I had _company_ one night and Ptero had the unknowing bad luck of hearing a few _things_. The next day, he began shouting profanities at the poor guy when he was on his way out the door. I'll let you use your imagination on that one.

So despite Ptero flying at my windows and Bierce Fitch swatting them with a laughable temper, my apartment remained relatively quiet. Except I did always wonder what Emmet got up to in my place when he'd feed the zoo for me. Because of my crazy work hours, he offered to change Ptero's cage and Bierce Fitch's food bowl in my absence, which I much appreciated, but I'd often come home to find traps and tricks set up around my house. Emmet got much satisfaction out of seeing me in pain or suffering, and he expressed this by either a) using my pets against me, or b) using my tiredness against me. Both of which were of equal value.

For example, last winter when it happened to be snowing, he texted me to tell me that he wouldn't be able to feed my crazy animals because he was going skiing in Colorado with his friends. That was fine, so when I got home to do the deed myself, I was welcomed by Ptero grumbling "Redrum, redrum," before a screaming and howling Bierce Fitch was thrown at my face. I, quite frankly, shat myself and didn't appreciate it when Emmet appeared from the shadows, decrepit with laughter. I could have punched his goofy face in that night.

I _did_ appreciate what Emmet did for me though. If it wasn't for him, I'd probably have no humans friends at all; I was lucky that he was the "Hi, I'm Emmet, nice to meet you, now shake my hand or you'll look like a shy douchebag" type of guy. Our friendship was a little forced down my throat, but in retrospect, I'm grateful for that. Besides, I wouldn't have been able to keep Pterodactyl and Bierce Fitch if it hadn't been for him. Ooft, no, perish the thought. They were the closest things I had to children.

So I suppose this is the stage I introduce myself? Ugh, I don't know where to start. Actually, how about with the basics? Well my name is Japser Whitlock, I'm 26 years old, and I'm a full-time general surgeon living in the rainy city of Seattle.

* * *

"Dr. Whitlock sweetie, y've been signed up for anotha Appendectomy. Go scrub in," instructed Irene with her grimy Boston accent that gave me goosebumps down my neck. Her voice was literally the same as the Grim Reaper's at this stage, except I'd welcome the Grim Reaper's because at least he wouldn't drag me into an OR. I turned around and forced the best smile I could, before I turned to the board to see where I had been assigned.

_Operating Room 2b, Appendectomy, Ms. Bella Swan. Intern not yet assigned. _

Ugh. I had to pick an intern now? Really? I've been an attending for a year now! I thought residents were made for choosing interns? Whatever. In the hospital hierarchy, it basically worked down from the chief of surgery (who _nobody_ messed with,) to the attendings, to the chief resident, to the residents, and finally to the bottom of the pile - the interns. These were the hatchlings of the hospital community and were literally supplied to be our bottom bitches. Their sole existence was to hand us proper surgeons what we needed to do proper work and if we were in exceptionally good moods (or merciful ones for that matter,) we could pick interns to assist us in surgery. Usually we'd opt to take residents with us instead, as they were less annoying and knew at least a little about what they were doing, but when the chief saw that his interns were being neglected, he _kindly_ asked us to "start letting them scrub in with us."

So now I needed to pick one to help me operate on Bella Swan. Great. Just great. Who looked the least annoying? My eyes glared around the perimeter of the hall to spot a wannabe surgeon, but when four of them caught onto what I was doing, and surrounded me like a swarm of locusts, I didn't need to keep looking. Three of them were piping up and jumping slightly up and down, chanting, "Sir, please, sir, you must consider-"

They were silenced, however, by the suave tone of the fourth one, a tall, slim, Latino woman who slid into my side a little.

"Oh Meestar Wheetlock, I'd _love_ to specialize in general surgery some day, so please chose me to scrub in with you, sir," she purred, flicking her eyelashes. I literally howled out laughing in my head at her attempts. I had to admit, she had some serious balls to do that to an attending. Except, she didn't have balls, and that was why her flirty trick didn't actually work on me. But still, I admired her attempt nonetheless.

"You," I said, pointing at her. "What's your name?"

"Sofia Rodriguez Arguelles," she said back, standing straight, but not losing her grin. "H_a_ppy to help sir."

I nodded and wrote her name on the board and turned back to her. "Dr Rodriguez Arguelles, you're scrubbing in with me today. Follow me."

I led her down the hall and into OR 2b, where we both washed up and got ready for surgery. The intern didn't lose that grin on her face, and I could've sworn she stuck her tongue out at her fellow interns who watched her from the glass panel on the door. I couldn't suppress the snort that escaped my nose, and she flicked back around, apparently conscious of running my patience thin. Hah, if only she knew. I was getting entertainment from an intern. Hell had frozen over but I didn't care, this chick was too funny.

"Meestar Wheetlock?" she sang, an innocent smile befalling her, "What is your opinion about the new issue of the Medical Journal?"

That seriously made me giggle to myself. I knew what she was up to.

"You know," I said, not letting myself smile. "If you want to make conversation with me while your friends are watching then just say so. I know how good it feels to get a one-up on the other interns." Of course I smiled then, and so did she, before I opened my mouth and said, "Well Dr. Rodriguez Arguelles, I had no idea interns read the Medical Journal. I have to say, I'm _very_ impressed."

I heard "_shit_" and "_that bitch!_" from outside, and my intern sniggered with her back to them, a hand up to her nose. "Thank you Meestar Wheetlock," she giggled. "They'll be so jealous now!"

"Serves them right," I laughed, "for acting like a bunch of animals."

She turned around and entered the operating room, sticking her tongue out at the other interns once more as she passed them, and I followed in pursuit, adjusting my mask as I entered. The anesthesiologist had already prepped Bella, and the patient lay comfortably on the operating table. Well, as comfortable as having a tube down her throat and a squishy shower cap on her head was. Still, it was better than the catheter she'd have on during recovery time. That shit was nasty. She should've considered herself lucky.

As inexperienced interns swarmed into the viewing deck to watch yours truly preform what was the most boring of all boring surgeries, my intern started to shove her boobs up beneath her scrubs. It was then I realized that the viewing deck faced us at an angle, and that she was using this to her aesthetic advantage. I hummed with laughter to myself again as I tied the knot to secure my mask in place. I was wondering if this chick really _did_ have balls. She certainly didn't care what people thought of her and I have to say, I admired that. It was refreshing, to say the least.

I drew a dotted line along Bella's lower stomach, where I planned to cut and I said, "scalpel," under my breath, but loud enough for my tarty intern to hear me. "Oh yes, yes, the scalpel, yes," she said, flicking through the tray of tools. "Which one is the scalpel? I am forgetting."

I visibly rolled my eyes. If she hadn't provided me with such entertainment the last hour, I probably would've expelled her. "The one for cutting," I sighed. "The most basic tool used by all surgeons." The bitch interns in the viewing deck began to snigger and laugh, but my assistant seemed to take it on the chin. She picked up the scalpel and gave it to me, smiling sarcastically up at her critics as she did so.

Okay, it was time for surgeon mode. Sur-geon-mode. Surgeon mode. Count to five Jasper. One, two, three, four, five. Okay there we go, let's do this.

"Making the incision," I declared, as the tip of the knife cut through Bella's abdomen. This was a surgery I could've done with my eyes closed, my hands tied, and with the entire Portuguese soccer team watching me. Okay, scratch the last part, but I think my point was clear. Heh, clear, there I was again with that word. No, focus Jasper, focus. _Must_._focus_. I cleared my throat.

"Suction."

The gurgling sound of the tube sucked up the blood that obscured my opening, and I continued on, step by step going through the invasive procedure of the Appendectomy once I'd put my hand inside the wound. I heard my intern grumble, "Ay ay, what am I doing here?" under her breath and that made me serious have to hold back snorting my mask off. My entertainment was enough of a reason for her to be there, but she apparently was doubting herself. I brought my mind back to my work, and decided that there had been enough suction. When the skin had stretched out wide enough for my fingers to locate the appendix, I asked for the clamp to be widened until the little bugger showed itself beside Bella's ascending colon.

"Yep, this bastard needs to come out," I said out-loud, aware that the hatchling interns in the viewing deck had heard me through the intercom and were snickering away to themselves. C'mon, seriously? Just because they thought I was some hot-shot surgeon, didn't mean I wasn't a human being. And a human can curse, right? Get over yourselves, you pre-pubic, pre-medicinal fetuses and go get your middle school teachers to say fuck. I promise, it won't be that exciting once you graduate, or at least grow up a little.

I sliced the appendix from the colon with a different scalpel and placed it into the tray that was then wheeled away by a nurse. My intern watched with wide, gleeful eyes as she experienced the most base of surgeries, and glanced up at the vitals quickly before watching the closing ceremony again. You know that feeling when you can sense someone else's eyes on you? That was me. I looked up and saw her hopeful face peering over and I couldn't help but ask if she wanted to finish the rest of the surgery under my supervision. She almost burst out of her elevated boobs, and hopped over to the patient and carefully sewed the incision closed after my invasive handy-work.

The other interns, however, watched in horror as their rival added one extra experience to her list of surgeries, out-weighing them with a new badge of refined stitching skills. When I saw a few of them mouth _'this is so not fair'_ before storming out, I realized that I had been meddling with intern politics. My life really was that sad; I was getting enjoyment out of the affairs of the hatchlings, bottom-dwellers of the hospital fish-tank. It had been a while for me, definitely, and the effects were beginning to show. Ugh. I needed to get out more.

I hardly noticed my intern finish her work and peel off her bloody gloves with a satisfied hum. I did the same, rather blankly, still contemplating the thought of hitting a bar tonight, before the anesthesiologist interrupted my thoughts by taking his leave. Bella was wheeled into recovery and my intern and I both moved to the wash-room and began lathering our arms and hands with soap. I quickly pulled my mask off so that I could reply to any questions regarding the surgery that she may have had.

"Leh me buy you a drink," she said, turning to me with a bright, friendly smile. "As a thank you." I really didn't know what to say. It was bad enough that I had been plotting interns against each other, and now I was going to hang out with one? The thought of me, an attending, being in the middle of a group of children/interns wasn't my idea of a fun night, despite this specific intern's spicy attitude.

I respectfully declined.

"Oh no, no, Meestar Wheetlock, don't worry about all those other interns. I don't drink with them. They annoy me. Nothing more than cheeldren they are."

I laughed to myself. An intern turning on her kind. She was a rare breed indeed - a snowy dove trooping with crows. _What the hell_, I said to myself. I needed a life anyway, so I might as well give it a shot and drink with my latino intern. What was there to lose? Other than my reputation amongst the other attendings, but I didn't like most of them too much anyway. Screw it. I was a nervous socializer and on most cases would have insisted on a declination of her invite, but because of how desperate I'd found myself to see walls other than those of the hospital's or my apartment's, I soon agreed.

"You know what? I will. Thanks. Where do you go?" I asked, turning off the sink.

"The Lasso," she replied. "A bar of some spice."

I smiled. It was about time someone 'round here started breaking Seattle's milquetoast bar-scene. The thought of some earthy, spanish drinks sounded good to me. We exchanged numbers and agreed to meet later that night. If I ever got out of here, that was.

* * *

I walked past Irene on numerous occasions, just so that she couldn't throw a surgery at me as I was out the door like every other day of my work-life. I thought that if she had something to assign to me, she'd have done it when she'd seen me walking past. My planning was made redundant, however, by the fact she never called me back when she saw me depart.

_Score_! I thought to myself as I hurried down the escalator, careful not to push my luck. _Not today, Irene! _I hopped into my black Audi and weaved through traffic, anxious to get home and to get ready, but not before wailing a song in the vehicle before I arrived at my destination. When I got to my door, Emmett was outside with Pterodactyl fastened to his arm by his birdy leash. Heh, I loved Ptero's birdy leash. It was just so, so, so awesome. He and I were both elated when I found it because Ptero was raring to leave the apartment and get some fresh air - so much so that I actually had to buy him the birdy leash in the first place.

Ptero began flapping his wings when he saw me. His feathers were mostly blue, but with streaks of yellow around his eyes and back. Everything about my Pterodactyl was perfect, but the one part of him that I adored above all else, was that one lone feather that jutted upwards from the apex of his head; it never failed to flatten like the others, even when subjected to water. I brought him into the shower with me once to see if it would go down, but it never did, so we both decided that it was a genetic mutation specific to him.

Emmet rolled his eyes when he saw me. He was wearing a plain white shirt and plain jeans, and I laughed at him for being _so_ adventurous with his dress sense.

"Well I still look hotter than you without even trying," he said. I didn't argue because I didn't even know whether I was considered attractive or not anymore. I hadn't even looked in a mirror in what felt like years. But Ptero apparently didn't like that Emmett had insulted me, and quickly came to my defense, "Emmett likes cock! Emmett likes cock!" he cawed.

I am not lying when I say that I literally almost pissed myself. Emmett had gotten owned by my parrot. Qual-it-_ee_. My neighbor swiftly dropped his arm and allowed Ptero to flap ferociously to the floor, flapping his wings and squawking.

"Hey, you were on my side!" he moaned, looking down at the parrot. I came to my friend's aid, as he had come to mine, and I picked up Ptero and snatched the bird-lead from Emmett. "There, there," I cooed, perching him on my arm. "No cock-loving Emmet can get you now, don't you fear." I curled my fingers and gently brushed my bird's feathery chest, causing him to straighten and side-step closer to me. Emmet feigned anger. "Yeah well, that thing has bird flu anyway. He told me he picked it up on a crazy night out a few years back." That seemed to be a quote; for anyone who was a parrot owner, you'd know that parrots listened attentively to the TV and radio, which was why they picked up the strangest phrases. Ptero was no exception to this. He'd listen closely to the sounds of my neighbor's TV programs, or he'd sing along with Miley Cyrus, Taylor Swift or whatever other annoying pop-girl was on the radio these days. Because of this, he was fluent in television/radio/soap opera language, and could even hold his own with English and Japanese swear words. My Ptero had developed his second and third languages, as they say, "on the streets."

"I'm sure he did," I said embracingly, kissing Ptero's head. "I don't doubt you for a moment." Emmett rolled his eyes again and stretched. "You're way to attached to that thing," he said, pointing at my bird. "And the sad thing is that you don't know how sad that is." I knew he was joking, so I pretended to kick him, with an apt sarcastic laugh following thereafter. Ptero apparently took offense and came to my defense again. He really did have my back. "Emmett's a virgin! Emmett's a virgin!"

Apparently, that was the straw that broke the camel's back.

"Shut up!" Emmett whisper-shouted, waving his arms. "There are hot girls on this floor!"

But there was no stopping Ptero. Once he put his mind to something, he had to execute it - he got that from me.

"Emmet's a virgin! Emmett's a virgin!" he squawked, "As dry as the Sahara desert!"

"Shut him up!" Emmett shouted. "I'll break his beak Jasper, I swear!"

I was too busy howling and cheering my parrot on. I would have joined in had I been the same species as him. Emmett was not amused in the slightest, and he waved his arms all around Ptero to shut him up, but his efforts proved fruitless. I knew Emmet wouldn't harm my baby, even _he_ was fond of him, despite the threats. I danced to Ptero's words and marched around the hall triumphantly, to encourage him to go on.

"Emmett's a stub! Emmett's a stub!" he cawed, looking at me while enjoying the levity he was creating. But it all came to an abrupt halt when a set of keys smacked my parrot off of my arm and knocked him to the floor once again. I chided Emmett and helped Ptero up, before turning to my door and sending him inside. I turned to Emmett again.

"Sorry, he watches too much television," I said, closing the door behind me to hide the continued chants of Ptero in the background. "He's just happy to see me."

"I don't know how you do it," Emmett sighed. "I don't know how you manage to make a Parrot have your personality. But dammit Jasper, he does. It's sort of creepy, in an Adams Family kind of way."

I snapped my fingers emphatically to mimic the theme tune. Emmet grinned animatedly and I did the same.

"You look strangely happy today," he noted, punching my arm.

I couldn't hold back my excitement. "I am. I'm going out tonight. First time in-"

"_Years_!" Emmet drawled mockingly, punching me again. "You must have cobwebs growing in you at this stage. Who's the guy?"

I shuddered. The sad truth was that it was a girl, and I was gay, so my action was still going to remain in the depths of the negative. No point lying! Emmet would know. He knew lies the same way Ptero knew old ladies and penis jokes. But he didn't need to know that she was an intern. That was the most embarrassing fact of all, if you ask me, but it was doubtful Emmet even knew anything about hospital politics anyway.

"A friend from work," I said. "Her name is.." Wait? What was her name again? It was a Spanish one! Isabella? Lorena? Paz? Ugh, this was a losing game. I rouged a little as I realized that I had no idea what my new friend's name even was.

"..Doctor Mshhmswhm.. she's a friend of mine from work."

"What was her name?" Emmet asked, raising an eyebrow.

"..Erm.. Doctor..Intern..Spanish.."

"Her name is Dr. Intern-Spanish?" he asked, unconvinced. My shoulders dropped. Kiss my ass Emmet! You and your perfect 'I know everyones' names because I'm Emmet and I'm the perfect standard of perfection and -'

"You don't remember do you?" he asked.

I acquiesced. Serious save face time ahead! Okay Jasper, you're a surgeon, thinking and doing things on the spot is your job! You can do this! Three, two, one.

"I have no idea."

Well done Jasper. Hard work and training to become a surgeon, my ass.

Emmet chortled and slapped me in the shoulder. "Only you would agree to meet someone and not even catch their name. Kudos, Jasper."

I laughed sarcastically before brusquely wrapping up the conversation after looking at my watch. I turned into my apartment, almost tripping over Bierce Fitch as I did so, and stumbled into my bathroom.

* * *

A shower, a lick of deodorant and a splash of cologne later, I was on my way to The Lasso with Emmett. Yes, he asked if he could join me and I said yes. Well, not at first, but when he challenged me by saying 'I bet your friend doesn't even exist' I kinda sorta had to force him to come. At least he changed out of that grubby shirt and wore something somewhat flattering. Even I, who was not remotely attracted to Emmett, found myself glancing over at his muscly arms as he turned the steering wheel. A guy can look, right?

But apparently Emmett caught on to my drifting eyes and had no problems commenting on it. "Eyes to yourself, you creep." Me? Eyes? Look? At him? Neever.

"Don't flatter yourself," I said, giving a forced smile. "But I am humbled that you whipped out your biceps for my sake. That was nice of you Em."

He tried to punch me, but missed, as his eyes were on the road. "Now I wish I kept on my T-shirt," he said.

When we neared the city center, we took a left down one of the main streets and I hopped out, with Emmett agreeing to find a parking space. The Lasso was before me and I walked inside, my eyes searching for my intern friend. I drilled myself for her name again, but it just didn't come to me. It was relatively busy inside, with the murmur of voice's filling my ears, so I found it hard to locate her specifically. I sent the number she gave me a text and minutes later I got a reply saying, "ICU."

Huh? ICU? My surgeon brain ran through every acronym I ever had to remember, some of which were nine or ten letters long. When a heavy weight jumped onto my left, however, I stopped thinking.

"See! I told you I see you!"

Aah, that was it. ICU = I see you. I smiled and turned around.

"Meestar Wheetlock!" she greeted, embracing me. "So glad you came!"

I smiled and grinned nervously. "Thanks! Glad to be here." I didn't dare say a name. I told myself that I'd wait for her to say it before I'd take a shot in the dark.

"What are we waiting for? Let's get the tequila!" She danced into the crowd, pulling me behind her and through a large group of lively, dancing Spanish people until we got to the bar. I was the only non-Spanish person there, but that was cool with me; these people had some serious style and color, and I liked that. Even my intern herself dressed spicily. I hadn't expected that despite my chiding towards 'interns not thinking of attendings as people,' I had completely forgotten that interns were just normal day-to-day people too, and that outside the hospital environment, I didn't need to uphold this "attendings vs interns" bullshit anymore.

My new friend embraced her Spanish culture. She wore a fruity, tight dress to her kneecaps, of which banded around her toned stomach and came down as a V to expose some cleavage. There was a large red flower clipped into her right ear, holding up one limb of her thick, brown locks, preventing them from dangling around her neck. I noticed how straight her nose was, and how white her teeth were. Shit, those scrubs really did make us look ugly.

The colorful buzz made me nostalgic for a culture that wasn't my own, and I became lost in the cheers and chortles of the dancing people - strangers who had never met before, yet had decided to dance together in large, cheering groups.

"¡Camarero! cuatro tiros de tequila para mi amigo y yo!" cheered my friend, nodding festively at the barman. He gave her a chuckle and a wink before he flicked the bottle in the air and filled a line of shots. She turned back to me.

"This is how we do it in Andalusia!"

I was given four shots, of which I immediately began to count the different types of poison I'd be consuming if I were to drink them. But my Spanish friend's cheering above the harmonious latin music pulled me from my doubts. Come on Jasper! Live a little! Quit being such a dry surgeon! I laughed and knocked back both shots with my new friend, feeling them both go right to my head.

I was dragged to a blue wooden table and was forced to sit down, where a waiter - was he male, or female? - brought us two large mojitos. I began slurping mine like there was no tomorrow. Alcohol tasted so good right now. Mmm, it had been too long. Now I know how Ptero felt when he wanted to get out of the house. I was so enthralled by the taste that I didn't even care that my new intern friend had practically dragged me across the bar.

"So tell me!" she asked, a large smile on her face. "What is your first name?" Her laugh was almost harmonious to the music, so it sounded, and I gazed with amazement, my eyes wide. I didn't realize that this was my chance to ask her for her name also.

"Jasper," I laughed, gulping more of my drink. "It sort of sounds like the name of a cheesy Danish porn flick, but you know, whatever helps you get up in the morning."

My friend collapsed laughing, her fruity laugh contagious to all in the vicinity. "Back in Spain," she started, sipping on the straw, "I never would have thought I'd meet surgeons who thought their names sounded like pornstars." She cackled and slurped her drink, leaving a stain of red lipstick on the tip of the straw.

"So Jasper, I must ask, why did you chose me for the surgery today?" she then asked.

It was hard to hear her amidst the dancing, cheering and whistling. The alcohol didn't help either and I found that I was slurring my words. "Because you hahv balls!" I said, slapping my empty glass on the table and waving at the waiter for a new one. He brought it over and I began sucking on the straw again. By God, it was the first thing I'd sucked on anything in a long time.

My friend laughed at my response, her questions endless. "I have balls?" she gasped, laughing uncontrollably and patting the front of her dress. "Ay, ay, mi madre would have a lot to fill me in on if I did!"

I laughed. "The real reason? Y'wanna know?" I slapped my drink on the table. "Because you were confident and didn't give a shit what tho s'other interns were thinking!" Okay, was I really getting that bad? It really had been a long time, hadn't it? My body was not used to alcohol.

When my fellow hospital worker started laughing at my response, Emmett came in and spotted me. He approached and introduced himself.

"Emmett," he said with a smile. "Nice to meet you."

"Sofia," she responded, shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you too."

I smelled flirting! I could smell flirting! Oooh, I wonder if this was meant to be? Maybe I was supposed to be the one to hook these two up? Ooh, predetermination, and I was part of it. Oooh, how exciting. Aha! And her name was Sofia! Score number two!

"Well Sofia," I started, wiping my mouth as some mojito spilled out. "I'll have you know that Emmet has huge biceps."

Emmet, as expected, punched me, but Sofia laughed out loud, watching me with a mirthful glint in her eye. "How haven't I met you before?" she asked me, her Spanish accent getting heavier and heavier. I took a drunken breath in and exhaled. "Probably because you're a girl, and I'm gay," I laughed. Emmett slapped his face but Sofia laughed again, ordering two shots of tequila for each of us in Spanish to the waiter. I sort of loved how she didn't seem to give a shit about the confession I'd just made.

_Hah! Take that Emmett, _I thought to myself. If she had ordered those drinks in English, he would have asked that I drink no more because I was already bad enough as it was. Hah, again! Sofia seemed to guess that in advance and that's why she ordered in Spanish. This girl was just getting cooler and cooler. But I did appreciate that Emmett cared, though. He was really sweet when he wanted to be. But I was still most impressed with Sofia. During the night, she seemed to 'get' me and Emmett's jokes, even though they were in her second language. Not a single nuance went over her head and soon enough, she was making one-liners and jokes of her own that put even Emmett to shame.

We discovered that she had a potty mouth like Emmett and myself, and we also learned that she had a dirty mind and a sick sense of humor. I promptly informed her of Emmett's earlier confrontation with my parrot, Ptero.

Have I spoken of Ptero before? I really do love him. And tequila. In fact, I should introduce them.

"'Emmett loves cock! Emmett loves cock!' That's what he was shouting!" I exclaimed, my drunken mind taking over me as I laughed. Sofia spat her mojito across the table and missed Emmett by a droplet. Not that he noticed though, he was too busy being lightheartedly debased by my drunken jokes and ramblings. "And Sofia," I continued. "Then Emmet went red and threatened to break Ptero. I mean, talk about getting owned by an animal."

"That thing is smarter than all of us put together and you know it," he commented, slugging his beer. Sofia piped in though, to save the drunken day. "Well, one of us," she said, winking at me. "He's smarter than one of us, and that one is the non-surgeon of the three of us."

A silence befell the table until I almost choked when I realized that she'd indirectly said _"Ptero's smarter than Emmett." _I quickly high-fived her and punched Emmett for a change. He, unfortunately, was a bit behind us and asked for an explanation. Laughing, I asked Sofia to explain while I bought the next round. Despite her demanding that I sit and she get the next one, I fought for my turn by reminding her that she was yet to allow neither Emmett, nor I, to buy a round of drinks. Emmett, the cheap bastard, enjoyed the free drink that continued to appear in front of him. When I stood up, I realized how much I'd drank and I felt my legs wobble beneath me.

Whew, this was fun. It was like I was surfing. Nahnahnahnahnahnahnahnah. Oh look, the bar was coming closer! Or was that me moving? Meh. I didn't care. I just wanted to drink more.

I stumbled to the bar and leaned over it a bit. The colorful shades of the different Spanish bottles of booze glittered in my drunken eyes and I peered over the bar, gazing at them in amazement. The bartender was busy being pulled all directions by a group of colorful Spanish girls, but I was too shitfaced to even care. To be honest, all I did was smile because I had finally let go a little and it felt so damn great. I felt alive again, I felt rejuvenated. I felt human!

"Getting a tequila too?" asked a person beside me. Ooh, that was a nice voice. Deep, broody and earthy. It was almost gravely in its tone. My diaphragm tickled a little. I turned to see a guy to my left, sitting straightly on the barstool. He was, along with Emmett and I, the only other non-Spanish person there. Mmm, how did I not notice him before? When he tilted his head from the shadow that had blocked his features, I was met by an angular jaw, high risen cheek-bones, slim, svelte cheeks and red pouted lips.

Okay why was I staring? Was this the alcohol making people look better than they were? And did this guy _speak_ to me?

"Getting a tequila too?" he asked again. Okay, c'mon Jasper. A surgeon, remember! You've done scarier things than look people in the eyes. When I forced myself to do so, I saw two dark, rich emerald eyes staring back at me. And I swear, if I never swear on anything in my life again, they were the greenest eyes I'd ever seen.

"Ugh.. yeah, yeah I am," I stuttered, pulling myself onto the stool. "If I can just get this dude's attention." I pointed at the bartender.

The man let out a husky laugh and quickly glanced at the bartender before turning back to me. "Well it looks like he'll be a while." We both looked at the girls who continued to distract him from his line of duties. What happened after that was probably caused by dutch courage, given to me by my new best friend called tequila, but I decided to just do it, to take the leap and be human again. I'd come this far, so why stop now? There was no point waiting for things to become _clear_; may as well embrace the chaos, right?

"I'm Jasper," I said, extending a hand, "pleased to meet you."

He smiled. "Edward," he said. "Likewise."

Heh. Edward. I liked that name.


	2. Layers

Wow, thank you for all the follows, favorites, alerts and other great things you all do. I so so so so appreciate every time someone reviews. When I get that FF email saying that I've been left a comment, I always stop what I'm doing to read it :) So thank you again! I hope you're all enjoying Jasper's twisty thought process :)

Also if anyone's curious as to why Bierce Fitch is such a strange name..

Actually, no. I'll say nothing. I'll just let you figure out what her name actually means :) Haha, although for people as smart as yourselves, I don't doubt that you've already cracked it. Aaaanyway, I'm getting as side-tracked as Jasper! Aha! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Do I own twilight? No. Do I have student loans? Yes.

* * *

Edward. Edward. _Ed_-_waaaard_. I liked how it sounded. It was almost like a name CS Lewis would have used for a character who owned copious amounts of land around the English countryside. Oh wait, was this the alcohol in my thoughts now? Damn, I thought this was my sanctuary of sobriety! I guess not. Whatever. Edward shook my hand and turned back around to see whether the waiter was going to do his job or not. He huffed, so I guess the answer to that was no. I for one, didn't care whether the waiter transformed into a monkey eating marsupial; I was just happy to have met someone who _piqued_ my interest.

One thing was for certain though. Had the tequila not filled my veins with a confidence that was otherwise absent from the day-to-day Jasper, I would not have been so composed in front of this man. I mean who had a jaw-line that perfect? Who? Celebrities, maybe, but those bastards were airbrushed and I for one believed that they woke up looking like Medusa-on-crack just like every other normal person in the morning. But Edward, _Ed-waaard_ seemed beyond that.

You know when you admire someone you don't know from a distance and suddenly you find yourself thinking of them as being great, and as if they're faultless and revered and everything that you're not? Okay, maybe that was my inferiority complex speaking but I tended to think of big elaborate stories around people I didn't know and I found myself doing this to this Edward. He seemed so composed, so perfect and unfazed that it almost made me feel dorky and elephant-like in my very existence. Extract what you will from that sentence because the voices of alcohol were speaking to me still, but regardless, they say that alcohol was a truth serum of sorts.

Edward eventually waved the bartender over and ordered two tequilas, slipping a ten dollar note as he did so. When the shots arrived, Edward passed one to me, much to my surprise, as I had just assumed he had bought the other one for a lady friend. He was too hot to be gay, after all. I nodded and knocked it back.

"Whew, hit the spot," I gasped, as the tangy after-taste made my face shrivel. Edward laughed and drank his as if it was water.

"You don't drink much tequila?" he asked, a small smile on his lips. I gazed for a moment before responding. "Well, um, no, I.." I didn't want to sound as if I only go out every six months or so.. Ahem, he didn't need to know the truth. I could recreate myself; I could be anyone! Was that dangerous? I chuckled.

"No," I conceded. "I don't come here too much, I..I'm a doctor so I don't 'ave the time." Remaining collected was hard, very hard, actually. Very hard indeed. Each tequila shot/mojito I'd drank was beginning to make my head spin, but I didn't want to look like some light-weight fool in front of Edward, or anyone who wasn't Sofia or Emmet for that matter. Edward's brows lifted.

"A doctor?" he asked, seemingly impressed. "Do you work at a medical center, or-?"

"A hospital," I replied, unaware that I had cut him off. "I'm an attending.. a general surgeon..a, erm, a surgeon, a doctor, a.."

"A surgeon, got it the first time," he said.

Shit. Was I screwing this up? I was screwing this up, wasn't it?

But my efforts proved some what fruitful as he kept his questions coming, apparently intrigued by me, of all people. There really wasn't much to me other than the layers of complicated doubts and insecurities that restrained me from being the person I was in my head, so I couldn't understand what he found so interesting about me; but each to his own, I guess.

"Are you a heart surgeon? A brain surgeon?"

I cringed a little. How come nobody knew the term _'neurosurgeon?'_

"A general surgeon," I replied, realizing how boring that sounded. "I opra-" Okay, no way was my drunken mouth going to be able to say 'operate' without screwing it up. Anything over three syllables had me, quite frankly, fucked. I tried again. "I work with organs in the stomach area." Ew, Nice one Jasper.

"Sounds difficult," he commented, placing his new drink down. "You've been working here long?"

"Three years, but I was a resident for two of them," I apprised. Of course he didn't know what a resident was to an attending, but I didn't bore him with any details. "And what about you?" I asked, "What's your story?"

He knocked back another shot and took a breath, the angle of his head shadowing his eyes and causing me to note how defined his facial features were again. As a person who worked in the same building as cosmetic surgeons, I could say that this Edward should have been be the show-man for "the straightest nose" or the "most angular jaw," because putting attraction and alcohol aside here, the guy really was beautiful. I felt inferior with my circular, more 'cute' features.

"Not much to me," he said broodily. "Grew up _outside_ the city and work with a business _inside_ the city."

Note to self: He's the humble, 'no need to speak about me' type. That's cool with me. Different, but cool. I was used to blabber mouth doctors who boasted about what medical awards or certificates of recognition they'd received. Modesty was refreshing.

"Sounds like there's more to you than you're letting on," I said with a shadowed smile, my wet teeth glimmering beneath the bar-light.

He laughed. I half-smiled. "I could say the same for you. You say you're a surgeon as if it's some part-time job." His deep voice became husky as he joked.

At that, I laughed. Honestly, it may as well have been something as small as that. Being a doctor wasn't like it was on TV; it was grueling hours of painstaking work that was barely justified by the paycheck at the end of the week. The only good-side was that people seemed to think that we surgeons were paragons and the cream of the crop, when in reality, we were just people. From the bottom-feeding interns to the high-rising attendings, everyone went home at the end of the day as equals; people just trying to get by every day. I didn't need to go into this with a stranger at a bar, however. So I kept it light.

"Maybe it is," I said. "Seeing a spleen isn't as mind-blowing as you'd think." He laughed and told me that he'd take my word for it. More drinks were ordered.

"But seriously," he said, while I noted how he was getting drunker and proportionally more comfortable. "I've always wondered one thing."

Ooh, let me guess! Is it whether I'm surprised that I'm finding you interesting? If I want to meet you again when I'm sober? If I want to thank you for making me feel human again?

"What's it like when you work?" he asked. "I mean, what's it like knowing that someone's life is in your hands?"

I stopped and pondered his question. The alcohol had made me giggly and childish, but it seemed to have an inverse effect on him. He was intensely radiant and looked at me in the eyes when either of us spoke. In a world of wishy-washy people, this was another thing I appreciated about this _Edward_. But as for his question, I had never thought of it as bluntly as that before. I mean, I knew that my job entailed of decisions that really were a matter of 'life or death' but I hadn't thought that each time I entered the OR, even for reasons regarding the most basic of surgeries, that someone's life was in my hands. I was too wrapped up in the job at hand that I forgot there was a family on the other side of the wall, waiting to hear news of their loved one. Suddenly, my career felt a whole lot less mundane.

"Is this what alcohol does to you? Makes you all philosophical?" I asked with a grin, sipping on the drink that appeared in front of me.

Edward laughed. "And how exactly am I philosophical?"

"You're pulling off the deep-thinking-brooder look very well." He knocked back his drink and rouged a little, turning to the bar. Oops, maybe that was a little too obvious. I mean, I didn't want to scare him away. Above all else, he was just a cool guy and looks aside, I found him extremely intriguing. It was unusual to have someone who was confident enough to look you in the eye while speaking, yet conscious enough not to rub his confidence in your face. It was unusual to have someone that didn't care about social pleasantries and just asked what was on his mind. It was unusual that he was a guy buying me drinks too, but that was neither here nor there.

I kinda liked this guy, but I didn't want to corrupt him with my attraction. Can you relate to that? Maybe I was a little overly forensic, but when I wanted to be - at least - friends with a straight guy, I often found myself turning off the sexual side of myself, not wishing for them to feel uncomfortable in my presence. I knew that I should 'not be afraid to be myself' but it really wasn't as simple as that. Sometimes I feared that 'myself' was a repellant to straight-males and I admit, I often compromised myself for friendships with them. Undoubtedly, I was doing this with Edward; he seemed like such an interesting person that I just wanted to be friends with him, so if hiding an aspect of myself was what I needed to do to get that, then fine. Hah, excuse me while I go into exile from the mental health specialists and gay activists. I frankly couldn't make heads or tails of myself either, but again, a great man once said that 'all I know is that I know nothing' and I for one, am lost as to who I was and what I stood for. Suddenly, I felt a little guilty for wanting to subject Edward to my faults, but I pulled my expression together to ask him a question and even managed to force a smile while doing so. Goal for team Jasper!

"You know," I said, pushing a grin, "my friends are sitting at a table back there." I pointed in the direction of Sofia and Emmet before continuing on. "I should probably head back to them now. But you're welcome to join us?"

A little taken aback, Edward visibly shuffled in his seat and knocked back his shot. "I don't want to intrude," he said.

_Intrude. _Hah! That was the funniest thing I'd heard all day. I had just met Sofia hours before-hand and Emmet was about as socially etiquette as Sinead O Connor on Saturday Night Live. There was no intruding on our crazy bunch.

"No really, you should just come meet them. They're a little crazy, but not as bad as Pterodactyl or Bierce Fitch."

"Ptero-what?"

With that, I escorted him over to our table, where Emmet was drunkenly blabbing to Sofia. I internally howled at seeing their drunken, philosophical faces. Poor Sofia, though. She seemed so shitfaced that not a word of Emmet's was actually being committed to memory. I took my chair and denoted to Edward.

"Sofia, Emmet, this is Edward. We've been talking for a bit and I thought I'd introduce him to you guys."

"What do you _meaan_ you said 'okay?' Maldito imbécil, Emmet. Don't you know you _never_ say that to a woman!?"

"It wasn't just 'okay!' I left an 'x' at the end to soften the blow!" Emmet defended.

"Ay, ay! She will be the last thing to ever blow you, Emmetita! Text her now and tell her that you are sorry!"

Edward glanced at me hesitantly. I sprung to action. "Hey drunks! Did you hear me?"

Both heads flicked upwards and then two dorky, drunken smiles were sent our way. Sofia hopped to her feet and shuffled to Edward. "Ay, ay! Who is _this_?" She snuggled into him as she had done to me earlier, her expression awry and asymmetric from the tequila. "Are you Jasper's new boooyfriend?"

Edward looked at me again, but all I did was shove Sofia out of the way with reddened cheeks. I felt sort of ashamed that she had almost outed me in front of him. And again, I was scared that that aspect of me would act as a repellant. Damn, I hated how things worked sometimes. I really just wanted to be friends with him, but of course, the gay thing was always a wedge between me and straight male friends. Hopefully he was different. Or at least put Sofia's comment in the 'she's drunk and doesn't know what she's talking about' section of his brain.

Edward curtly stepped to the side and took his chances with Emmet, who extended a hand to him.

"Hey Edward, you're a guy, right?" started drunken Emmet, while I facepalmed myself. "Do you think that replying 'okay' to a girl makes her think you're mad? I mean, it's just a word! I'll never understand women!"

Right. It was official. My friends were weird. Really fucking weird.

"Jasper I've tried and tried to tell him but he won't leestin!" Sofia cut in, jumping up and causing her boobs to jiggle. I was beginning to think that she wasn't aware of how big they were. Emmet sighed and slapped his face. I shot an apologetic look towards Edward.

"Why are women so complicated!?" he groused, taking a slug of his beer.

"Why are men so insensitive?" Sofia replied, with drunken acerbity. These two were really hitting it off.

I decided to leave them at it and go elsewhere with my new friend, as they were too drunk to engage in proper conversation. It was funny because I thought that _I_ was the tipsy one! They'd really put my perception of drunk to shame. But at least they were there to entertain each other. They kept each other off my more-sober back, too.

After clearing his throat, Edward indirectly decided where we'd go next by asking, "Do you smoke?"

That made me laugh. Me? A surgeon? Smoke? You realize smoking is the number cause of heart disease in America and that 90% of the patients in the oncology ward had smoking related illnesses? And you're asking me if _I_ smoke? Wasn't it obvious? I mean, _duh_, Of course I did!

Well, I didn't usually but I enjoyed the occasional one. Especially if it was a Cohiba cigar. I literally dreamed about those bastards. Edward left for the smoking area and I followed duly. When outside, he took out a cigarette case and then held it up to me, offering me one. All I could think about was how suave he looked with a cigarette case, and I took one from inside and lit it up, taking in the earthy smoke that silkily glided down my throat. I knew that 'Smoking Kills' and that it was apparently what would lead us to nuclear holocaust and world war three simultaneously, but I didn't really give a shit at the time. It tasted good, made me feel good, and was a joy for my nerves and drunken jitters. I thanked Edward while he filed the case into the pocket of his long coat and took another pull.

"I didn't expect you to take me up on the smoking offer," he commented with a smile, brushing his free hand through his thick, wavy brown hair.

I chuckled. I _wonder_ why? "And why's that?" I asked, knowing his reply.

"You're a doctor," he responded flatly, a grin nonetheless. I laughed at my clairvoyance. Hey, if this doctor thing didn't work out, I could always be a psychic.

"Well Edward, consider me off duty," I said, taking a pull. Hah, I was getting the hang of this 'being slick' thing. Actually, thinking about it made it a whole lot less authentic. Oh hello elephant feeling! Where did you run off to? Did you decide to go plague the Republican party while I had forgotten about you?

"I like your friends," he then said. "They're.. interesting. How long have you know them?"

"Two years and two hours," I responded. Wait, did that make sense? Well apparently not because Edward blinked at me and everyone knows that blinking = having no idea what someone is talking about.

"Sorry," I hummed. "I've known Emmet for two years and Sofia for two hours." There. Clarity was nice. Aha! There was that word again, but just in a different form! Trying to sneak past me, eh? I know when the word 'clear' tries to wipe its irony on me at any state I may be in, be it drunk, infatuated or over-worked. Nothing gets over my head! Well, except maybe for Sudoko. That shit was like Egyptian Hieroglyphs.

Edward's brow raised and his teeth showed, causing me to notice how they were straight, but also sharp and slightly jagged. It was a nice change from the perfect braces-look that people had nowadays. Again, authenticity and aesthetic humanity was a nice change from the status - "perfect looking" - quo.

"You've only known her for two hours?" he asked, appearing surprised. "You act like you've known each other forever."

It sorta felt that way too. But not with just Sofia.

"Hah!" I laughed. "Other than the fact she shoves her tits in my face and tries to put me on an IV drip of tequila, I really like having her around." Straight-man nuances? Check. Hospital joke? Check.

Edward took a quiet pull of his cigarette and said nothing. I then realized what I had _not_ said.

"Not that I don't like her shoving her tits in my face. Can't say I can complain about the tequila either." That satisfactory feeling when you know you're being true to yourself? Uncheck. Jasper Whitlock, you are one serious coward sometimes.

Edward, again, took a quiet puff on his cigarette before I decided to change the subject. I was making my sexuality a little obvious, and even more so by trying to amend what I'd said.

"So what about _your_ friends?" I asked, with a ameliorating smile. "Are you planning to meet people here?"

Edward stepped on the butt of his now finished cigarette. "Nope," he said flatly. "Just came for a drink on my own. Until I bumped into you."

Ugh oh. I knew from experience that when alpha-males had something of their minds, they tended to bottle it up and express them through quietness or prolonged sulking. There was a fine-line between the most macho of males and the most flamboyant of women. But as for Edward, was he suggesting that I interrupted him? Wait, didn't he speak to me? Come on drunken memory, help me out here you no good, good for nothing piece of sh-

"Not that I minded bumping into you," he amended with a shy shrug, looking at the floor. Yep, I sorta melted right then. He was worrier, like me.

I smiled and would have said something on that had he not continued on. "Honestly, I haven't been able to meet people around here. Not trying to sound like a dick, but this city has too many shallow people."

A pessimist. I was uncovering the layers of Edward with every word he spoke, and his responses and actions moved into my analytical tendencies as a storm advancing into a silent core of waiting. It was interesting, though. He was a little critical of 'the herd' as I was. Maybe we were both a little pessimistic, but I liked to think of myself as a natural optimist who feared optimism. So there were differences there too, I suppose.

"I know what you mean," I said. "But there are good people here too, you know. You'd be surprised what you can learn about a person." Careful Jasper, don't sound like the elder doctor. The last thing I wanted was to make him feel like a pessimist by me being the other extreme. However I smiled a little at how I was innately optimistic despite my doubts.

"Oh?" he asked. "Maybe all is not lost."

"It's certainly not." And may the drunken confidence embody me and implore me to start this friendship! "I'll tell you what. Why don't I prove to you that there are good people in this city? I mean, I live in this city too and I don't think I'm shallow, so let me prove that to you." He then laughed. "I'm not even kidding!" I said. "If you think that I'm the shallowest douche to walk the planet after we meet up again, then you can just never see me again. Deal?"

Edward laughed out loud and raked a hand trough his wavy brown hair. He looked at me with, what I thought, was a glint in his eye. If I could've read his mind, then I'd say that he was like me and was running through the doubts in his head, but when a different expression befell him, one that spoke conversely to his previous one, I'd say that what he then said to himself was something like, _'Ah fuck it.' _

He then shook my hand.

"It's a deal Jasper," he said huskily,

.. before I sorta died inside.

* * *

After exchanging numbers with Edward and joking that I'd give it to my crazy ex-girlfriends (don't judge me,) I gathered my drunken circus-act and took a taxi home. Emmet had passed out with his head on top of his beer mug, while Sofia had taken the liberty of jumping onto the karaoke machine and singing in Spanish. Thankfully Edward had left before that happened and I guiltily admit, I kinda sorta joined her for one song, and sang "El Chupacabra" over and over to make up for my non-existent Spanish. Sofia seemed impressed, however, and intoxicatingly congratulated me for my Spanish fluency.

After arriving at my place - and having Sofia speak in her native tongue the whole way home, convinced that I could understand - I opened the door and plopped Emmet onto my sofa before directing the Spaniard into my spare bedroom. I tried asking her what her address was but she insisted on saying it in Spanish, and our Arabic taxi driver hadn't the slightest idea where "Chupa Mi Verga Grande" was. I mean, she didn't even give a zipcode.

That morning I woke up with a hangover from Satan himself, that neither coffee, pain killers nor darkness made better. Emmet left before I even woke up, and left a note saying, "Thanks for last night shitface. Don't miss me too much." Of course I threw it in the bin upon finding it. Emmet's hand-writing in its very existence was mocking. I loved him really though.

Sofia was a different story altogether. I stood outside the spare room, knocking gently to wake her up and not wanting to enter, in fear of what I'd find. But after countless resultless knocks, I creaked open the door and looked inside. Sofia was lying above the blankets with her clothes stuck to her and her face contorted as if she'd been strangled by the wrinkly hands of Irene herself. Bierce Fitch sat gingerly on her stomach and I guessed that Sofia didn't notice that, as she snored cacophonously and muttered in Spanish.

I took it in my stride and tip-toed in, gently nudging my ossified Spanish comrade with a considerate shake. She didn't wake up, of course, but she muttered some things that I didn't understand:

_"La miré a los ojos del mismísimo diablo."_

_"I murió y volvió a la vida."_

and

_"Póngame de mi miseria."_

I didn't need to speak Spanish to guess that she was wishing death upon herself, and I chuckled and nudged her again, this time successful in my endeavors.

"Vuelve demonio asqueroso!" she yelped, flicking upwards and knocking poor Bierce from her lap. The spanish woman's eyes were slightly bloodshot and her hair was stuck to her neck. I watched her for the sheer entertainment value of it.

"Sofia?" I asked slowly, smiling. "Are you.. _okay_?" I handed her a glass of water and she grabbed it without hesitation, gulping it in seconds and gasping afterwards.

"God bless you, child," she panted, wiping her eyes. "Where am I? Is this your casa?"

"It is," I apprised, smiling. "Don't worry, no-one died and you managed to survive."

Except I knew what she was really worried about; what all women worry about after a moldy night out.

"Don't worry, you didn't take off your clothes and we didn't sleep together."

"Oh thank God, I can breathe again," she sighed, smiling. "Ah yes, you don't like the women. I forgot."

Hah. Most did. For some reason, everyone thought I was straight. Even gay guys. It must have been the surgeon thing. You don't really hear of outspoken gay surgeons, do you?

"No worries.. but I better remind you that I don't speak Spanish." At that, Sofia burst out laughing as the memory seeped back into her. She tilted her head back and let out a loud, contagious, scream-like laugh, of which caused me to curl over myself laughing. I loved people with big laughs, and hers was so lively and fruity that it made me admire her gloriously.

"My apologies," she said, sniffing. "I could have sworn you were fluent. You knew all the lyrics..?"

Her suffering would see no end.

"I was saying 'El Chupacabra' over and over," I apprised with a wink, wiping a row of nails against my shirt as they did in cartoons. She howled out again, a large laugh, bigger than life itself and I couldn't help but join in. This girl was crazily funny.

"Leetle bastard!" she howled. "Tricking poor Sofia like that!"

We chuckled onwards for a good fifteen minutes before either of us budged. We had so much to talk about and I reminded her of her conversation with Emmet and her introduction to Edward, both of whom she seemed to remember astutely. I told her how we - Edward and I - planned on meeting up again, to which he nudged me and hummed "eh? _eh_?" I assured her that we were just acquaintances and that I had no intentions of letting it go further than a friendship, but of course she didn't buy it and told me that she'd go after him if I didn't. I was really warming to her and felt as if I could tell her anything that was on my mind. There wasn't a judgmental bone in that girl's body, and like Edward's impeccable social skills and authenticity, I found myself appreciating that.

After finally doing the pilgrimage to the kitchen, I made Sofia a coffee and threw together something for us to eat. She assured me that American coffee was shit compared to Spanish coffee, before she berated French coffee and then the entire French population for their apparent snobbishness thereafter. I introduced her to Pterodactyl and he turned out to be a huge hit. She called him "A beautiful dick with wings," but I think she meant, "a beautiful chick with wings," referring to the parrot's cuteness and infant-like qualities. I sorta died laughing at that, but said nothing, not wanting to insult her otherwise faultless English.

She was then re-introduced to Bierce Fitch, who I described as "The Whitlock household's equivalent of Meg from Family Guy." That was true too; poor Bierce Fitch got the run-off attention of Ptero, who was universally preferred by guests for his vibrant colors and sailor vocabulary. Going back to the parrot, Sofia got great enjoyment out of teaching my bird miscellaneous Spanish curse words, telling him that she'd "have him speaking like a true Spaniard in no time." I had no idea what a single word she taught him meant, but I did find it embarrassing that my parrot's pronunciation of Spanish words was better than my own.

Soon enough Sofia packed her stuff and kissed me goodbye, thanking me profusely for my hospitality and introduction to my crazy family. It was then when I sat down and took a breath, feeling proud to have had one more person to add to the chaotic group that was the Whitlock household. It was clear that my group was expanding.


	3. Six Degrees of Separation

Thank you for your reviews, PMs, subscriptions! I can't express my appreciation!

Disclaimer: I'm yet to be sued. Unfortunately that means I still have student loans. Just saying.

* * *

Note to everyone: Hangover + work + no sleep = a fate crueler than death. Then, one must divide both sides by Irene, and get a remainder of cigarettes, alcohol and a craving for something I ought to not smoke. Please God, if you love me, turn my blood into tequila, _please_, because I was even beyond sighing at this stage; sighing took up too much energy. About an hour after Sofia had left, I was called by crucifixion itself when I was summoned to work after a crash on the free-way outside the city led to all the general surgeons being paged at once. I called Emmet and asked him to take care of Bierce Fitch and Pterodactyl in my absence and I hurried out the door, not even having the time to fully digest what had happened last night.

I arrived at the same time as the other surgeons of my specialization; apparently my face was not the only one to speak of the mutual feelings of indignation as we were called out during our supposed time off. I had worked a month straight, no breaks, so I thought I'd get at least two days to myself, but apparently not. The hospital was gravely under-staffed after some major cut-backs in the general surgery area, so as a cruel result, the few of us left were exasperatingly over-worked. I'm pretty sure I could've complained to the union about my ridiculous hours, but there was really no point. The hospital was a tight-clicked community and I didn't need the eyes of the nosey nurses on me, not to mention a confrontation with the wrath of the chief of surgery.

Irene assigned me my cases for the week. Her face, as always, made me want to swan dive off of that statue of Jesus in Rio De Janeiro. Anything to break the feelings of claustrophobia that woman made me feel. But despite feeling surrounded by the same faces and frowns of my colleagues - such as Irene's, - there was once person I saw on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis who I never got sick of seeing. For the three years I'd worked at St. Jay's Memorial Hospital, I'd seen many patients come, go, and even come back again. But in all my time here, there was only one patient left who'd been on my services since the day I arrived. Every other one of my patients had either walked out as healthy people, or unfortunately, spent a night in the morgue. But this patient had been here as long as I had and I really couldn't picture life in the hospital without him.

Julian Hart was admitted on the morning of a crisp autumn day, if I recall correctly, complaining of nausea, abdominal pains and fatigue. It took a while to diagnose him; I mean, how common are those symptoms? I could've been anything. Anyway, I didn't actually meet him until that night, when food-poisoning and other minor ailments had been ruled out. The interns and nurses couldn't diagnose the cause of his symptoms, and so he was sent to me for further examinations. I didn't think it was anything serious at first, but when he vomited blood one night, I knew there was something severely wrong, and my heart instantly went out to him. I immediately had him tested further, and felt nauseous myself when the results for stomach cancer came back positive.

The worst part? The worst part was that Julian Hart was only eight years old when he was diagnosed.

Since then, it's been a battle to, not only keep him alive, but to keep him on my services. Because stomach cancer was so rare amongst children, many pediatric surgeons and oncologists wanted to take him so that they could use him to climb the medical ladder, as if he was some feather to put on their caps. I didn't want Julian treated like some sort of commodity, so I demanded that I remain his doctor, and luckily, things haven't changed. And above all else, he's still alive and doing much better.

I was thankful for his strength too. Julian had taught me a lot about myself and what it meant to be brave. For a guy like me, being gay and all, bravery was a concept I always had to deal with. I mean, who would've thought going to college was so terrifying? Where most people worried about whether they'd 'fit in' or not, I was worrying about whether I'd end up with some crazy room-mate who'd gather his friends to gay-bash me. Maybe that's why I came across straight? Perhaps it was a self defense mechanism.

But watching Julian grow up gave me hope when things weren't going well, and his situation put my own into perspective. Despite his slim chances of survival, he never lost hope. He still told me how he planned to be the captain of his football team, and how he some-day planned to ask Wendy Carter to be his girlfriend. When the nurses would inform me of his deteriorating state, his optimism would undercut their concerns. If there was a living example of bravery, it was Julian Hart, and in many ways, I needed him more than he needed me.

When Irene handed me the rounds, Julian was third on my list of supposed priorities. Of course, I didn't care about this, and I made my way straight to his room, choosing my priorities for myself. He was in there, pushed up against the bed-frame and watching a sports game, laughing loudly when his team managed to score a goal. I slipped in quietly.

"You better remember me when you're on television like they are," I said, pointing to the screen. Julian flicked his head towards me and his face lightened up. He motioned for me to sit on the corner of his bed.

"Hey Jasper, come watch this with me! The Raider's are tearing these guys apart!"

I watched for a few moments while occasionally glancing down at my charts, his monitor, and back to my charts again before I recorded his progress. He didn't seem to notice, which was good, and so when I shrieked with excitement when the Raiders scored another touch-down, he was mightily impressed. He then flicked off the television and turned to me.

"So where have you been?" he asked, swiping a sleepy eye, "you haven't been here in.. one whole day!"

I laughed. "I know, I know.. I took an extended holiday. I don't think I'll be going anywhere soon though. Between you and me, there's a whole slew of patients on their way as we speak."

Julian's mouth opened and his brow lifted. "Oh cool! So how many surgeries will you do? Do you get to perform CPR? I've always wanted to see someone do that!"

Kids will be kids.

"Maybe so. I'll tell you what, if I get in on any action I'll be sure to let you know." I smiled and gave him a nudge. "Maybe it'll give you some ideas for your book."

Julian rumbled in his seat. "Oh yeah! That would be awesome! I'm already finished chapter seven, can you believe it?"

"Wow! No I can't!" I really couldn't. He started writing that book the day he came in. In fact, I remember when he enthused about starting chapter two, never-mind finishing chapter seven. How crazy was that? To this day, he refused to tell me what it was about or who was in it. All he would let me in on was that he needed as much 'cool stories' from my work to give him things to add in as I could provide. He kept the story in a green hard-back note-book under his pillow, but he'd only take it out after I'd left. I usually saw him writing in it through the window whenever I'd pass by.

I did my best to pop into him as many times as I could, too. Poor Julian never got many visitors; it wasn't as if his story was so cliché that he didn't have caring parents. It was more that his family didn't have the funds to pay for the colossal hospital fees they'd been burdened by, and so they spent most of their time working three or four jobs each just to keep their heads above the water. They were truly admirable people, so I did my best to keep Julian company in their absence. It was the least I could do for them.

Julian motioned to the book under his pillow and stuck his tongue out at me. "I bet you want to know what it's about!" he teased, poking me. I laughed and feigned an angry growl, pretending to go for the book as if I were a beast of some sort. Julian chuckled and gave me a soft slap, as he slid the book further under his pillow with the other hand. "Hah!" he joked. "You'll never find out! You'll just have to wait until I want you to see it!" He cackled loudly. I chortled and pretended to attack him, when instead, I tickled him and made bear-like roars. He kicked and screamed until I stopped, but I didn't do so without assuring him that I'd be back to 'get him' later. He really brought out my inner-child.

When I shut the door behind me, I glanced back to see Julian writing in his copy, clearly inspired by something that had happened. I smiled and glanced down at my charts, only to have my smile wiped off my face. The facts and figures I'd recorded from his monitor were worrying and it was clear he was deteriorating. His red and white blood-cell counts told me that his cancer was still spreading; chemo was losing the battle, and ultimately, so was he.

But I remembered his face, his dreams and his goals. If he wasn't losing hope, then why should I? Julian was a lot tougher than he seemed. He was young, resilient! He was going to get through this. I hoped; I knew.

I cleared my throat and looked to my list of other patients and decided it was best that I start visiting them too.

* * *

Was I whipped? I wasn't whipped, was I? No, don't get me wrong, I _was_ single, but was I whipped anyway? Here's the thing; since befriending Sofia, I realized that during all of my surgeries later that day, she was the intern who accompanied me into the OR for every one of them. I didn't even remember specifically assigning her to my services. She just kind of 'showed up' and assumed a position on my team. She was assiduous, though, and that certainly helped, but I found myself staring at her blankly when she spoke to me, with only _'when did you get here?_' spinning through my mind.

So I'll ask again: Was I whipped? By a woman? By a friend?

Wasn't I the attending?

Remember that awkward stage before you were legal to drink, and your legal friends would say "if you act confident, the bartender will serve you. If you look all scared and shy, he's more likely to ask for ID?" Do you remember that? I have no doubts in my mind that Sofia was served illegal alcohol from about as early as fifteen. She just kind of acted as if she belonged where she was, as if she was entitled to be on my services, and as a result, I just didn't question it. And why would I? It wasn't as if she was doing anything wrong. She just made me question of my own authority sometimes.

When the victims of the crash outside the city came in, I was met by three beds stampeding past me and into the critical condition unit. Ms Irene-slayer-of-all-that-is-good told me that one of those people had been injured in the abdominal area and that he was now on my service. Before I knew, Sofia appeared out of nowhere and I found myself writing her name on the board as my accompanying intern. I'm fairly certain she had a wand or something, passively controlling my actions. Afterwards, we headed to the intensive care unit and found our patient.

Sofia flicked open the chart and started reading what the paramedic had recorded.

"Carlisle Cullen, thirty five years old, survived a head-on collision with another vehicle. He was impaled at an angle after flying through his windshield and being struck by loose debris. Condition critical."

I shuddered. Was it her accent or did she just say that he had been _impaled_?

Flicking open the milky blue curtains, I saw with my very eyes, a sight I wouldn't wish on anyone. Well, maybe except for Justin Bieb-

"Ahhhhhh!" he screamed. I saw a pinched pale face above a creased pillow before my eyes lowered to see the true extent of the damage. Unfortunately Sofia's accent was clear because judging by the pole that jutted out from Mr. Cullen's abdomen, there was no doubting that he had, in fact, been impaled. Sofia's face had dropped and she muttered something in Spanish, presumably something religious. I immediately snapped into doctor mode.

"Mr Cullen, my name is Dr. Whitlock. I need you to stay calm. Everything is going to be okay." I then turned to my team of nurses. "Get this man some morphine, _now_!"

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Before noon, the hospital was buzzing with stories of 'the man with a bar through his stomach.' Although the enormity of that fact startled me, as I was this man's surgeon, I did my best to keep my confidence high.

_You're here for a reason, _I told myself, thinking of all the other general surgeons who were laid off. _Obviously the hospital knows what you're capable of. _

In all my time in St. Jay's Memorial Hospital, I had never, ever, had the experience of removing a bar from someone's stomach; being human and all, I sort of started to fear the unknown. The surgery was planned for eight o clock that night, with Mr Cullen in a stable condition after his arrival. The morphine eased his pain and allowed the muscles around the wound to loosen up; this was what we had hoped for, as it would be easier to remove the bar that way. Tons of interns asked me why I had 'left a man in a room when a bar had gone through his body,' and my reply was simply a shrug. I didn't want to go into the whole thing, but me and my team of residents agreed that sloppy work was more likely to happen in the heat of the moment. We agreed that it would be best to take a breather before the operation, considering we could get Carlisle into a stable state - which we did, and come back to our patient when we were pumped and ready.

So here I was, in the cafeteria, staring right ahead and sipping on a cup of coffee, not registering the fact Sofia was to my left, in equal shock to myself. We didn't speak to each other partially because we didn't need to. We were both going through the procedure in our heads. I, for example, was thinking of step six, stitching the damaged organs closed after assessing the damage done to them. Sofia, I imagined, was contemplating.. erm, whatever it was interns usually contemplated. Perhaps regarding what tools she'd hand me, or how she'd position her boobs for the spectators above. I had no idea.

I took another sip and decided to say something to break the ice. People were beginning to stare.

"Are you ready for tonight?" I asked, my brain still lingering on how I planned to stitch Mr Cullen's wounds.

"I thought you were gay?" she replied, faultlessly innocent. I stopped right there. Okay seriously? She really wasn't on the same wave-length as me at all today. I sighed, and managed to smile a little.

"I'm talking about the surgery."

Sofia gasped nonchalantly and sniggered. "Oh, my bad," she said. "I thought you meant something else."

I shook my head. She was lucky I was somewhat crude and uncurious. Otherwise I would've asked what she thought I meant, but I had guessed that much already.

"You have a twisted mind Sofia Rodriguez," I remarked.

"Sofia Rodriguez Arguelles," she corrected, and I sarcastically apologized. Why were Spanish names so long? I heard that there's a tradition in Spain where people are named after a parent, and additional names come from those of grandparents from both sides of the family. Jeez, if that was the case, my name would be Jasper-Jensen-Clark-Larsen-Dixon-Eriksen-Whitlock, considering it was okay to go back that many generations. Hmm, I would ask Sofia about this some-day.

Anyway, I shrugged and suggested we go check on Carlisle to make sure his morphine levels were high enough, and to make sure his blood tests came back negative for blood poisoning. Who knew where that bar had been? It could have landed in cow shi-

.. I shuddered to think. Luckily, Sofia stopped me mid-walk to direct me into the patient's room before I had mindlessly wandered ahead. The door was surrounded by a bunch of curious interns and I was forced to banish them all with my authoritative voice. Damn, it felt good to take out my stress on them. Note to self: Interns made great punching bags. _If in doubt, go for the hatchlings - _a recurring joke amongst attending surgeons.

When stepping inside, I checked Mr Cullen's charts and inspected the wound thereafter. Fortunately, he was asleep and highly sedated so he couldn't feel anything, and I was certainly grateful for that. We had to cut his clothing off and set a sheet on top of him in the name of his privacy. We couldn't risk moving him in any way at all, incase we budged the bar and widened the wound. I immediately began thinking about the best way of removing the bar.

Should I pull it out and risk rupturing more organs? It was possible that the bar was actually keeping everything in place. Perhaps I could cut half the diameter of the bar in half and remove the excess bit on its own? Ugh, so complicated. As I planned on finding the area of both ends of the bar by doubling the area of the exposed tip, I was dragged back to earth by a grumbling sound from in front of me.

_Mr Cullen?_

I moved to the bed and placed a hand on his forehead. He wasn't too hot, so that was good, but I feared the morphine was running out. He had consumed the limit we could legally provide him with and I winced as I saw the pain seep back into him. "Mr Cullen, do you know where you are?" I asked, wishing him to wake up to the sound of a voice, rather than the sensation of being impaled by a piece of metal. "Do you remember my name?"

"Please," he gasped, as he lifted a shaky hand and clutched my wrist. "Please call my family. My wallet."

The nurses should have already been on that! Grr, would Irene and her cronies just do their jobs? I nodded and sent Sofia to the safe room, where patients' belongings were kept. She came back minutes later with a tray of items that had been found on Mr Cullen and she handed me the wallet from atop. I searched and found a card with a number on it, but no name. I called, and a woman answered.

"Hello?" she asked, sounding eerily perky in light of the circumstances. Wait, don't tell me that..?

"Hello, is this Mr. Carlisle Cullen's next of kin?" I asked. A silence befell the other line and I questioned myself again. Don't tell me that the nurses hadn't..?

"Yes," she responded quietly. "Who am I speaking with?"

"Ms..erm, Cullen, my name is Jasper Whitlock, I'm a doctor at St. Jay's Memorial Hospital Seattle."

"Oh."

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. She had no idea! Nobody told her? Wasn't the first thing the paramedics or nurses did was call a family member? And now the poor woman had to find out that her husband had been impaled almost hours after the actual event! I would have someone's job for this! I swore it!

"Ms Cullen," I sighed. "I'm so sorry to tell you this but your husband, Carlisle, has been in an accident."

I heard a shriek, a shaky cry and my words repeated to someone else. This was not good. I'd have Irene fired for a screw up like this. I can't believe they were going to find out about this _last_.

"Oh my- What happened?" she shrieked, her voice high. My heart went out to her.

"He was in a car accident. He's stable at the moment but he's going to be brought into surgery at 8pm tonight. He specifically asked for me to call you. Please, come and see him."

I heard "Oh My God" repeated over and over before anyone actually replied to me. Eventually, the woman said she'd be there any minute before the line went dead. I dropped my phone into my pocket indignantly, realizing that I had a score to settle with Boston's queen alternative, Irene. I marched to the receptionist desk where the old witch dwelled and slammed my charts on the surface.

"Irene!" I yelled, causing her to poke her grey head from beneath the counter. "I need to speak with you!"

She didn't seem impressed by my demands, and her huff illustrated that. "S'cuse me sweetie, some of us have work to do, what do you need?"

"Well apparently you're not doing your work right," I informed. Ooft, I owed Mr Cullen for this one; I'd been itching to give her a piece of my mind since I was scumming it as a resident. Now it was D-day. "Why is it that my patient's family are only being informed of my patient's condition _now_?" I asked.

Irene watched me suspiciously and opened her charts with her eyes still on me. She wasn't going to win this stare off, so help me God. I'd call all of her bluffs if I had to. My eyes were not moving. "Candice!" she yelled, still watching me as if for sudden movements. A heavy short woman waddled into the vicinity and Irene addressed her, although didn't look at her.

"Candice, didn't I tell you to call the impaled man's family?" she groused. "Why hasn't that happened?"

The woman's face dropped and she scurried around herself. "Oh my! I was called onto Dr. Leeman's services last minute so I thought you did it yourself?" she said. Irene finally broke eye contact with me and glared at the woman irritably. I swear if that ugly bun on the top of her head could have turned into a pot of cock-roaches and consumed Candice right there and then, it would have. Irene was _pissed_. Poor Candice, though; I had had her on my services once and I recalled her being a pretty good nurse. Pity she was now Irene bait, though. The old witch eyed her up and down and said,

"This was your responsibility, Candice." I cringed when she whipped out the finger of scorn. "You're not gettin' off easy for this one. Into the pit for the rest of the week."

Then, I winced, and Candice's protests were met with indifference. She stormed away. I didn't blame her for being angry. The pit was the worst place any nurse or resident go be assigned to. I was lucky that I was an attending who now transcended all to do with that place, but I had been there once as a resident, and by God, I wouldn't wish it on anyone. It was basically the place where the elderly patients with minor illnesses were sent. Not that that was the bad part; the bad part was that this crowd had been circulated within the system so many times in their lives that they found us, and all things to do with the hospital, to be decidedly bureaucratic and inconvenient. And hey, you can't blame them for that either, but it was more the fact that they tended to take that out on the poor residents and interns who tried to help them. It was funny for us attendings to watch, but it was inextricably stressful for the abused interns and residents who scurried around the Pit, assisting all the grumps. I watched Candice disappear into a week of threats and complaints, along the lines of, 'touch me one more time and I'll show you how sharp my dentures are.' I'd be surprised if she didn't hang up the ol' blue gloves by Friday.

"Problem solved," Irene said, dismissing me a moment later with a flick of her hand. "Go on, don't you have better things to do?"

She was right there. I turned and walked back to Mr Cullen's room, where Sofia was staring at his vitals and making sure nothing was spiking or dropping. I told her to take a break and that she'd been working very hard, but she refused to leave, stating that she wanted to be here to apologize to the family also. She gained major respect points on my behalf after that. She was going to make a great surgeon some day; I could see it in her now. Being one of us, above all else, took compassion. And Sofia saw this first hand when my own compassion was put to the test as Carlisle woke up again and called for his family, at which time I approached him and assured him he'd be okay, despite the half-meter bar that was lodged into his stomach.

"Mr Cullen," I said, "incase you don't remember, I'm Dr. Whitlock and I am here to make sure that you're going to be okay. I need you to stay calm. Your family is on the way."

"Wha.. what's in me?" he asked, his eyes spotting the large hump in the sheet that covered his body. I glanced over to Sofia; my face said it all because she knew exactly what I needed of her. She pulled a screen from underneath the bed and attached it between Carlisle's face and the bar, so he wouldn't have to look at it. I then sighed and looked at him in the eyes.

"Mr Cullen," I said, "you were in an accident. You're in St. Jay's Memorial Hospital in Seattle now and you're in a stable condition." I then looked into him, rather than at him. Patients who went into surgery with fear and worry burdening them, were known to have reduced survival rates. I needed him to be comfortable with me; I needed him to know that he was in good hands. "It's a miracle you're alive, Mr Cullen. If I've learned anything today, it's that today isn't your day to go. You're here with us, and I don't intend on letting you go anywhere, is that clear?"

His heavy breathing and watery eyes softened slightly and he watched me desperately, trying to cling to some form of normality or hope. He sucked in carefully and did his best to speak, despite me telling him that he didn't have to.

"What's your name?" he asked. I tilted my head.

"Dr. Whitlock," I replied factually.

"No, your _name_." I was sort of confused, but if having details on me helped him through this then as far as I was concerned, he could know anything he wanted about me.

"Jasper," I said, my expression imbued with assurance. "My name is Jasper."

He took another breath and exhaled slowly, careful not to budge his abdomen too much in light of the injury. He didn't need to be told what had happened. It was obvious at this stage.

"Thank you," he drawled out, his chest deflating. That was enough for me to know that he was in the right mindset, so I gave his shoulder a squeeze and assured him that I'd have him up and about in no time. I think this was the reason Irene and I never saw eye to eye. She always thought of patients as 'numbers.' She had seen so many pass through the doors of the hospital that she began to forget that each person was unique; shaped by different experiences and relationships they'd lived by. I hadn't forgotten this, though, and did my best to show compassion towards people in conditions like Mr Cullen. Weren't things hard enough without being treated like some sort of sheep? The least he deserved was some respect. He was a person, after all, not a faceless number. I sent him another reassuring glance, at which time a knock at the door suddenly stole my thoughts.

And it was Sofia who single-handedly managed to obliterate my ease.

"The family," she said under her breath, standing to her feet with an apologetic look on her face. I did the same and wiped my hand on my scrubs, ready to introduce myself. The door opened and exposed a short, slim woman, with long brown hair and large almond-like eyes. Her roots were grey while her eyes glittered with worry and fear, intensifying when she saw the covered spike that jutted out of her husband. Her shriek was icy and I froze. Sofia saved me by shaking the woman's hand. I think she said her name was Esme.

She immediately ran to Carlisle and began stroking his face, telling him that he'd be alright. I couldn't describe how bad I felt that nobody had told her sooner. The fact she cried into her husband made it in even harder. Carlisle used his shaky hands to wipe her tears away as she asked him what had happened. His memory was rusty, so he wasn't entirely sure, but he just told her that he was in good hands and that she had nothing to worry about - that _Jasper_ was going to fix him. Although I was relieved that he now had a survivor's mentality, I suddenly felt the pressure over me intensify. Who was it who recently reminded me about how serious my job was? God dammit, I didn't work nearly as well under stress, and now I'd see this woman's face in my mind as I operated on her husband. I felt a little sick.

After Esme and her husband gathered themselves, Carlisle then lifted his head slightly and asked his wife something. All I could hear was _"where is..?_" before she turned around to the open door and called, "come in," to someone through her shaky tone. Just then, a man slightly taller than me ambled into the room and caused my mouth to almost hit the floor. His eyes first widened as they fell upon Carlisle, and I could see so many emotions flash through them at once. Then, his gaze turned to Sofia before realization washed over him, before my presence then quickly confirmed the confusion that raced through his mind. If there was anything I felt in that moment, I had no control over it. Dread and pain freely clawed at my insides.

Edward?" I gasped.

"Edward?" Esme asked.

"Edward!" Sofia gulped.

"Jasper?" he wheezed.

Shit.


	4. What a Beautiful Gallbladder you Have

So let me just use this space to express how mind-blown I am by all your positive reviews, private messages, subscriptions, everything. I'm so humbled by your kind words that I've been staring at the screen with smile on my face for the past hour. You guys are all so great :). Before I dive into Jasper-mode, I'd just like to thank those of you who I've been communicating with through PMs; I love getting to know you all and I hope I do you all proud :).

Disclaimer: Whether Stephenie Meyer sues me or not will determine Carlisle's fate. Just Sayin'.

PS: It is currently my dream to wake up with a PM from someone willing to be my trusted Beta-Reader and sidekick.

Thanks and enjoy!

* * *

"You two know each-other?" asked Esme, her eyes looking up to Edward before moving over to me. Was this happening, or was I living a dream? I mean, didn't Seattle have like 300,000 people? I put my bet on a dream; a cruel one at that. Maybe Irene drugged me. Edward, wide-eyed, watched me, as I in turn kept my gaze on Esme. I was waiting to wake up and find Bierce Fitch on my lap and Ptero perched on my bed-frame with his leash in his mouth, demanding that I go walk, or fly, him outside. But I had no such luck. Edward, the _same_ Edward who I'd met at a bar the night before, was now standing before me in a state that reflected his fear, as well as our mutual shock. His father, I presume, was in the bed to my front, with his expression awry with pain and confusion. A part of me wanted to rush to him to do something about the pain, but the other part of me made me stay where I was. I didn't know what to do.

Detachment had always been the safety net for surgeons as myself. It was easier to operate on someone when you knew nothing about them or their family, as their story wasn't something that was necessarily personal to you. One cared, of course, and maybe I cared a little too much, but there was always that comfort in knowing that the person was a stranger to you. But in the case of Edward, someone who I had planned to call after work today to meet up with for beer, I felt massive, colossal pressure on my shoulders. During Carlisle's entire operation, I'd not only picture that scene of Esme crying over him, but now I'd also see Edward's intense green eyes probing me as I'd pull the bar from his father's stomach. Seriously, was voodoo at work here?

On one hand, I could've always just assigned a new surgeon by saying I couldn't operate on someone I sort of knew. But then again, did I really trust anyone else to carry out the procedure with the same amount of skill I could? Wouldn't I still be to blame if Carlisle died in the hands of a different surgeon, when it could've been me who saved him? I was doomed either way, and frankly, I felt even more claustrophobic than I had when I'd seen Irene earlier that day. I wanted the ground to swallow me, chew me and spit me out on the other side of the world so that I'd never see this hospital or city again.

I could then feel all eyes on me as Esme waited for a response, but yet, I remained silent. Sofia, luckily, came to my rescue.

"Edward, hello, my name's Sofia, you remember me, right?" she asked, smiling, while purposely drawing out the pleasantries to give me some thinking time. Edward just nodded and brought his eyes back to me, while Esme watched us both in confusion. I couldn't bring myself to say anything. However, Edward did.

"Jasper," he started, not moving from his stance. "I need to speak with you outside."

And there it was, the floor began to spin. What did he want to talk about? Did he want to change surgeons? Did he maybe want me to assign a new intern? A frisson crawled up my body while I nodded and followed him outside the door. Here, he brushed a shaky hand through his brown, wavy hair and looked at my firmly, his eyes stabbing me and evoking more pain from within. If there was a higher power at work, I cursed it indignantly.

We both remained silent for a moment before he decided to say something. "When did this happen?" he asked, keeping himself together. I admired how he kept his cool, despite his family member being shockingly impaled by a piece of debris. But I wish I could've have admired this from a different perspective, and not as the person who his father's life was contingent upon. My spine chilled.

"This morning," I admitted remorsefully, my eyes flicking around the floor. I couldn't, _wouldn't_ look at him. I was too ashamed. Edward, in turn, sighed and paced away from me with a gasp, gently shrieking before turning around and looking at me again, the length of his index finger against his brow. I needed to be the surgeon here. This was my job; I was supposed to be the calm one, but yet I was the one freaking out and analyzing every little thing Edward did.

"Why are we only finding out now?" he asked, his voice low and swollen. I wanted to tell him all about stupid Irene and her inability to retire, but I thought that I'd better not make the hospital sound like a _complete_ joke. Okay Jasper, get a hold of yourself. You're a surgeon, remember? Do what you always do when you need to calm down - count backwards. Five, four, three, two, one.

"There was a mistake. One person thought the other was contacting you and vice versa, so nobody actually made the call. But Edward I swear, when I found out your family wasn't in the know, I called Ms Cullen immediately." My breath was vibrating.

He nodded, but understandably, had more to ask. "What _happened_ to him?" he asked firmly. He spoke to me as if I was responsible for what had happened, and guilt surged through me as a result of that. I took the deepest breath I've ever taken in my life and tried to rein myself. Eight years of training and I'd never be prepared for something like this. Please Edward, please just understand that I _want_ to help you.

"There was an accident outside the city," I explained. "I was called in this morning when the hospital got wind of it. I was told that Carlisle had.." I stopped and cleared my throat. "Edward, you don't need to know every deta-"

"_Tell_ me," he demanded, taking a step closer to me and peering right into my eyes. "Tell me what happened, and everything that could go wrong." I always associated the color red with intense fire and bubbling anger, and so never in my life did I expect to witness such firm, yet boiling emotions emitting from irises of a deep emerald. I never thought I'd be so pinned by green eyes, but yet here I was, completely at mercy to them. I didn't know whether to move my gaze elsewhere, or to keep it joined to his own.

I sighed and wiped my forehead. "He went through the windscreen and landed on a metal bar." Edward looked at me as if to hear more and it was then I realized that he wasn't going to relax until he knew of every last little detail regarding the accident, as well as every bit of information regarding complications and risks. I hated that I had to be the one to list what could go wrong. Of course, I didn't want him to hate me, but I figured that he needed someone to be the enemy; he needed someone he could blame right now, just to help him through the worst of it. He needed to have someone to direct his anger at while he coped with the thought of losing his father. He needed a punching bag, and you know what? I was prepared to let that be me. "In my medical opinion, it has penetrated the upper curvature of the stomach and has stabbed him at an angle so that his left kidney is at risk. I don't know how far through the stomach it's ripped, but if it managed to go all the way through the body of his stomach, then it's possible that his pancreas will burst when I pull the bar. If this happens, there'd be very little I could do in terms of stitching or reviving the mutilated flesh. I'd be forced to cut out a piece of his pancreas, which would cause him to be an insulin dependent diabetic for the rest of his life." I stopped. When my mouth stopped moving, I felt so much fly through me at once: Guilt, disgust, self-doubt, everything. It killed me to tell him what the future could have in store for his father, but it had to be said; Edward would have been persistent in knowing _everything, _so if putting him at ease also made me the bad-guy, then whatever. It would bother me, but I'd get through it. I didn't want this to be any harder for _him_ in the long-run. This wasn't about me. Well, other than the little fact I was his father's surgeon, but I tried not to think about that.

Edward watched me, his eyes glittering with undiscerned fears, before I felt the gap between myself and the wall behind me close in. A firm fore-arm pushed against my chest and suddenly I was shoved against the wall, with familiar, yet ominous green eyes threatening me. Whaa-? What was happening?

"Listen very carefully to me," he whispered with a growl, his brows knitted and lip curled. "I don't know how this happened; how I ended up seeing you again like this, but if you're the one putting your hands on my father, then know this; I saw how hard you partied last night, and it fucking scares me that you're here _working_ the next day. If you're not one-hundred percent on your game today, _Dr Whitlock_, then my father could die in the hands of a hungover surgeon. And I am _not_ prepared to lose him to that. Do you hear me?"

I gasped. Was he for real? Everything about this was wrong; this wasn't how it was meant to be. I was meant to call him and drink beer with him. We were supposed to be friends! Where did I go wrong? I honestly didn't absorb what he said as I was still in shock over the fact I'd been pushed against a wall, so I stared at him, not sure what I was thinking or what I was feeling. His heavy breathing washed over my face as we stared at each other; he, almost animalistic in his wild expression, and I, submissive in my very nature. I didn't move while his arm pressed against me, symbolic of his desperate foreboding and fear of the unknown. I then squirmed from his reach, suddenly angered that he had forced me into a corner. Literally.

I didn't care what kind of fucking parallel universe I was living on, _nobody_ had the right to lay a hand on another person, especially if that person was the man who was prepared to save the life of another man's father. I understood that he was worried, but my God, it wasn't _my_ fault his father had been impaled by a half-meter length piece of debris! I was willing to be the enemy, but not like _this_, this was all wrong.

I pushed him backwards with a firm press of my arms before I was the one to watch _him_ intensively. "Edward, you wanted to know what the complications were and I told you. Now back off or I'll have you removed from the premises. I'm sorry this happened to you, honestly I am, but if you're going to push me against a wall over something I did during my time off, then I think it's best you leave." I felt my lip raise. "And I'll have you know that my private life and my work life are completely separate. If I didn't feel I was able to work today then I wouldn't _be_ here." I took a breath and found that I almost wheezed with anger when I did so. What had gotten into me? It was like _I_ was the one who needed a punching bag. "All I can promise is that I'll do my best, Edward, and that I'll keep Carlisle's morale high before the surgery. Letting him see you like this won't do anything for his high spirits, so if you don't want to cooperate with me, then do _him_ a favor and chill out."

Edward seemed to some-what deflate and he watched me for a moment before growling what he would've continued to say had I not erupted. His stomped in the opposite direction and he walked towards the café, steam almost emitting from his ears as he did so. I hadn't noticed how much my chest had widened, so I pushed the air out of myself, my angered red cheeks cooling in lieu of a peachier color. However, I sighed. Why did he have to act like that? Wasn't this hard enough for everyone? Why did he feel the need to assert himself like that to me? My palm slapped down my face and I groaned stressfully.

This was the day I learned that Edward Cullen had a temper that could curdle milk.

* * *

8pm rolled by and Carlisle was prepped for surgery. Esme stayed by his side the entire time and caressed his face when his morphine levels began to dwindle. Edward, however, was nowhere to be seen and I guessed that he couldn't hack the hospital scene for much longer and stormed out. I told myself that I wasn't going to concern myself with him in this moment, as I had Carlisle to focus on, but I couldn't help but think about him anyway. Where was he and who was he with? I worried he'd do something stupid.

After he marched away, I couldn't help but feel that our possible friendship had suffered a miscarriage. From now on, I'd be 'the guy who killed his father' or else 'the guy who never bothered trying to save his father' considering I was to not operate, or were to fail in my attempts to do so. Either way, my options involved getting burned, but simply at different degrees of that. I could avoid the fire the best I could and leave it to wreck havoc on the Cullens, or I could run through it Arnold Schwarzenegger-style, face-first and annihilating every flame that threatened them. But whether I remained Carlisle's surgeon or not, I was always going to be at risk of becoming, at best, lightly charred, with the threat of being burned to ashes and embers always looming over me. It was a risk at best.

I mean, I couldn't deny that the chances of Carlisle leading a normal life without a single complication as a result of this injury were next to none. In fact, we'd probably both make medical history if he walked away from this unscathed in the long-run. Some-how that seemed doubtful though, and as long as reality was reality, Edward would never want to be my friend. He seemed like the _'all or nothing'_ kind of guy. If Carlisle wasn't completely unimpaired after the surgery, then my attempts would be viewed as a failure, even if the best possible outcome came true for Carlisle's recovery. Maybe that was just me looking too much into Edward, but it was just the impression I got from him. I hoped I was wrong.

I needed Sofia with me for emotional support above all else. She was the only one who had some kind of idea what I was going through, as seeing Edward again was a shock not only for me, but for her too. After going back inside to Carlisle's room after my little confrontation with prissy Edward, I asked Sofia to start brushing up on her studies before the surgery so that she'd be on top of her game. She did as I asked without any protests whatsoever, and when alone with Esme, I gently informed her of Carlisle's condition and asked her to sign a form permitting me to operate on him. Carlisle signed it too.

When the anesthesiologist arrived, Mr Cullen was wheeled out of the room after a tear jerking goodbye to Esme, and I followed in suit, turning around to assure her not to worry, despite the doubts I had in my mind. Sofia caught up to me as I approached the OR and both of us began to scrub in. We stood over the sinks and washed our hands and arms.

"Don't panic yourself Jasper," she said, squeezing my shoulder. I melted into her touch. It was just what I needed. I was always a mommy's boy.

"Thanks," I sighed. "But I can't help it. Sofia, this isn't happening. Tell me this isn't happening."

A sorrowful expression brushed past her face and she lifted her closed mouth in sympathy for me. I nodded back to her. A silence befell us both before Sofia cleared her throat, sensing my worries in the air.

"When I lived on the streets," she started, looking into the sink, "I remember thinking everyday that my life was not fair." I looked up and knitted my brows, a little taken aback. Streets? Sofia? "'_Why me? Why Sofia Rodriguez Arguelles?_' I would ask myself," she continued. "I had no food, no water and I slept beneath cars and bridges for two years of my life. I could never understand why some people had so much of the monies when I had so little. But then I realized that moaning and groaning to the air wasn't going to find shelte_r_. It w_a_sn't going to get me a job so I could come to Amereeka. Even though I prayed to God for _the_ _help_ and _the_ _guidance_, it was me who made my future happen, Jasper. And you can make yours happen too, you just need to believe in yourself."

I dropped the sponge I had been using to wash my arms and I turned around to her.

"You lived on the streets?" I asked, eyes wide. She nodded and patted my shoulder. "And I am alive, no? I came to Amereeka with seven dollars in my pocket and a dream in my head. And look at me now! If Sofia could get off the streets of a grubby city in Spain and become an intern in one of the country's top haaspitals, then what could Jasper do with just a leetle bit of belief in himself, eh?" She poked me. "Come on Jasper. It's only a silly piece of metal. I know you can save Meestar Cullen."

My mouth opened. Sofia lived on the streets? My friend Sofia? The same Sofia who now danced the nights away in sophisticated Spanish clubs across the city? My mom was right; people really were like onions. There were layers to people that we seldom got to strip to the core. In a way, Sofia had peeled a layer off of herself and shared it with me. That alone made me feel much better. And besides, she was right. I could do anything I put my mind to. She was living proof of what self-belief could do for a person! Despite the doom and gloom Edward had placed me under, Sofia managed to make me feel pumped. I was going to save Carlisle Cullen and nothing was going to stop me from doing that! I tied on my mask, pulled back my sleeves and counted down from five.

I was ready.

* * *

Carlisle lay with his eyes taped shit and a tube down his throat. His heart monitor showed healthy, regular activity and his readings were stable. We removed the sheet that covered his chest and moved it around his waist. I always believed in making patients go through surgery with dignity, even if they weren't aware of what was happening. It was just something I felt it necessary to do. My team of nurses rolled their eyes as I covered Carlisle's private parts with a sheet, before they then surrounded Sofia and I while we inspected the wound.

I first pressed my fingers around the site of penetration, where the bar pierced Carlisle's flesh and jutted into his insides. The flesh was squishy, which was good, as I could remove the bar with more ease this way. I sighed with relief when I noticed that my patient was a muscly guy. I could see defined abdominal muscles below the bar, nearer to his naval, and I was grateful that he took care of himself because that could've been what saved his life. Luckily, It was his strong stomach muscles that had taken the brunt of the tearing, but I couldn't yet guarantee that his stomach itself hadn't been punctured either.

A nurse bolted into the room with the long awaited X-ray scans, and she placed them upon the ultra-violet board for all to see. Here, I saw a scan of Carlisle's ribcage and below, with clear markings where the bar had entered. His upper abdomen had been severely torn, but unfortunately, the volume of the debris actually blocked the view of how deep it went. There was only one way to find out, and that was to pull the bar out and inspect the after-math.

I turned to Sofia. "We need to pull it out," I apprised, taking a breath. "I don't know what will happen when we do, but there'll be a lot of blood so I'll need plenty of suction to see what I'm doing. If the bar has punctured his stomach or worse, I'll need to get in there immediately. I need speed and accuracy Sofia, can you do this?"

She nodded. "We've come this far."

Right. Okay. I gently lubricated the wound and placed both hands on the bar, as a witch stirring a cauldron would. My knuckles went white with my grip and Sofia pressed down on Carlisle's abdomen to keep it steady.

"I'm going to pull, in three.." I started. We needed to all be on the same time, incase sloppiness further punctured any organs. My grip made my wrists shake, and I felt an icy sensation crawl through my diaphragm.

"..two.." My biceps began to flicker and shake but I did my best to keep my arms steady. There was no room for error. This was it.

".. _One_."

"Jasper wait!" Sofia shouted, causing me to almost push the par further into Carlisle. My eyes bubbled with anger and confusion as I then stabbed her with my glare.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with y-?"

"Don't. Not yet. Look up. We can't continue this."

Confused, inflated and dizzy from head-rush, I ascended my head to search the viewing deck above. In retrospect, I would have preferred to see Irene standing there bare-naked than what the alternative was. Peering at me, with a face as pale death itself, was Edward. He watched as I almost pulled a chunk of metallic debris from his father's chest. The thought of him witnessing that made my stomach heave and I quickly excused myself, much to my nurses chagrin, as I stumbled out of the OR and back into the scrub-in room. My mask overwhelmed me, and I ripped it off. I leaned against a wall and caught my breath. Sofia was in pursuit of me, evidently so, as she burst into the room.

"Jasper, I'm sorry, but I couldn't let him watch. He just appeared out of the nowhere."

"No, no," I disavowed, panting and waving as I caught my breath. "..not your fault. So glad you stopped me."

"I'm sorry, Jasper."

I couldn't say anything else. _'What if'_ began to plague my mind mercilessly as the floor span around me again. What if I had screwed up and Edward was present to see me standing there, as the life seeped from his father's face? What if Carlisle's body went into shock and Edward saw me perform CPR on his father's already-broken chest? What if Carlisle's organs began to fail and he'd have to hear me call time of death? How could I live with myself knowing that I had not only failed someone who trusted me, but that _that_ person had watched me as I had failed them? The enormity of the situation sapped the oxygen from the head, and that was why I had to throw myself out of the OR. I looked up at Sofia.

"Get him out of the viewing deck," I panted, my left hand on my chest. I couldn't risk that happening again. However Sofia told me that she had already organized for him to be escorted out and that he was not permitted, until further notice, to enter any of the viewing decks in St. Jay's Memorial Hospital. That made me feel better and so I straightened myself, wringing-out my spine and twisting my body from left to right. Edward was determined to make this difficult for me, even though he _was_ innocent of inflicting pre-meditated enmity on me. I didn't think he realized how much pressure his being there would have put on me. I took a deep breath of the medicinal, metallic air around me. I needed to pull myself together for Carlisle's sake.

I ambled back into the OR. My eyes immediately went to verify that Edward was, in fact, absent from the viewing deck. That much was true. At least I could do my work now without having that kind of pressure looming over me. Literally.

The anesthesiologist told me that we had to get underway fast so that the timing of the anesthetic wouldn't be corrupted. I swiftly agreed and went back into my position, both hands squeezing the bar that would either save, or kill Carlisle, depending on the outcome. I started both my mental count-down again, as well as my spoken one. I couldn't believe I had to do this all over again. Five, four, three, two, one.

"Three." I took a breath. "Two." My grip tightened. "One." I steadied my gaze.

"Now!"

With everything I had in my upper arms and shoulders, I pulled the bar out of Carlisle as King Arthur would unsheathe the Sword of Excalibur from an almighty rock. It slid out of him with a bloody gurgle and his body pressed against Sofia's arms as the bar pulled him up with it. A final tug caused redness to fill the gap where the debris had been and before I could even call "suction," the nurses were on it. While I stood there, the notorious pipe-shaped piece of metal in my hand as if I were the Statue of Liberty, I let my team complete their roles and fulfill their purpose in the OR before Sofia included me again.

"He's bleeding out," she informed, glancing at his vitals before looking at me. "I don't know if it is the muscles or his stomach that is doing the bleeding."

The bar fell and clattered onto the floor with a shrill ring. In my peripheral vision, I could see the entire population of the viewing deck standing on their feet, their faces pressed up against the glass as they watched with inflated apprehension and hope.

"Get me a clamp I need to see what's bleeding!" I shouted, wiping my forehead with the back of hand as my fingers dived into the opening and began searching for a hole or a puncture in any of the key organs. What worried me was the immense damage done to Carlisle's abdominal muscles. That made me felt weak, but I pushed myself further so that I could dig around with precision and certainty, with my goal to judiciously identify a hold or a leak. Yet, I found nothing. In fact, when I wrapped my hand around his stomach, I discovered that there was no damage done to the organ _at all_. So where was all this bleeding coming from?

When I thought it couldn't get worse, the vitals machine beeped at me. Its cold noise rang through my ears and shook my core. If I never saw the light of day again, I could honestly say that hearing that warning beep which told me that Carlisle's heart-rate was dropping rapidly, was the scariest noise I'd ever heard in my three years as an attending surgeon.

"I don't understand," I bellowed, helplessly looking at Sofia and then the nurses. "There aren't any holes in his stomach, the bar missed it _completely_. Where's all this bleeding coming from?" The nurses looked at each other cluelessly, and I suddenly felt alone. There was no-one here but me; no safety-net, no superior to guide me through what to do, and no teacher to restart the medical trial. There were no second chances. I felt raw, vulnerable, and due to break my neck.

But then, Sofia's basic intern studies offered some hope. "Name every organ the bar _could_ have damaged," she advised, raising her hands to start counting as I listed.

The machine beeped again, louder.

I groaned with panic. _Think_ Jasper, Godammit, _think_! "Ugh, ugh, the spleen, the lower aorta, the kidneys, the liver, the inferior vena cava?" I stopped and cursed. "It can't be any of those!" I said. "He'd be dead by now if any of those had ruptured!"

"What have you not named?" she cried out.

The machine then screamed at me, indicating the looming point of no return. My head churned and my thoughts overlapped. I was going to lose; I was going to fail everyone. I felt as if I was drunk inside a fast-car, driving at night beneath the blurry lights of a city. My mind was divided, and Carlisle was dying.

"That's everything, I've named everything!" I shrieked, blood now smeared on my face as my desperation loosened me. My mind was flashing from Esme, to Edward, to me breaking the news of the unsuccessful surgery to them. '_No_,' I thought to myself; I _couldn't_ lose Carlisle; I couldn't have brought myself to a state-of-mind where I'd be able to break the news of his death to Esme, never-mind _Edward_. And although I hadn't known Edward long, I didn't feel it mattered to me under the circumstances. I had never operated on a relation of someone I knew before, and regardless of whether I knew that person for as many two years or as few as two days, I couldn't fathom the thought of telling them that I'd failed to save their loved one. I had only ever worked with strangers - and I didn't even have that luxury as of now.

I repeated, again, the list of possible organs that could have been damaged. _The spleen, the lower aorta, the kidneys, the liver, the inferior vena cava.  
_I took a shaky breath. And again. _The spleen, the lower aorta, the kidneys, the liver, the inferior vena cava. _And as the word 'cava' left my lips, the answer struck me. My brows lifted and I turned to Sofia.

"The gallbladder!" I shouted. "The blood is coming from the _gallbladder_. The bar missed his stomach completely!" I stopped. "_Suction_!"

My hands dived in once again and I widened the clamp, viewing his liver and indeed, a ruined gallbladder. As a surgeon, this was the best discovery I could have asked for, other than realizing I was perhaps in a dream. Imagine someone was injured in an accident and you find out the only organ that was damaged was the appendix? I couldn't believe the luck that this man had. Although he was going to lose his gallbladder, it was no big deal. Thousands of people get them removed each year. It was nothing compared to the torn stomach or damaged liver that I had expected.

From here, it was a surgery I did almost twice a week. I removed his gallbladder with my scalpel and placed it onto the ice tray before removing my hands from the wound. My eyes shot over to his vitals and I saw that his heart-rate's drop had halted, and that the blood-loss had stopped. The relief drugged me as I stood and stared at the now-clear wound on Carlisle's abdomen. I watched his chest move freely up and down, a reward in and of itself.

One of the nurses tipped me on the shoulder and told me of the blood on my face. Despite everything, I laughed inside. If having gallbladder blood all over my face meant saving the father of a person I knew, then I'd have more where that came from! I turned to Sofia, ripped off my gloves and threw my arms around her. She didn't even know how much she'd helped, so I wanted her to know how important she'd been during Carlisle's surgery. She congratulated me with a _'I told you so,' _which caused me to snort with laughter and relief, but mostly relief. I hadn't realized how strong that emotion was. Relief was now my favorite feeling ever, even if it took pain to unlock it. It had drugged me and made me feel as light as a feather.

I turned to sit down for a minute but I stumbled a little when I did. Okay, so maybe relief really _had_ drugged me; I was weak at the knees. Sofia came and held me up, at which point I thanked her. She waved me off and advised me to leave the OR and that she'd stay behind to stitch up Carlisle. Of course I protested, but she gave me her _'seriously Jasper, I'm not fucking around'_ face, so I conceded. In honesty, I was glad that she was tenacious because I wanted to see the ass of that OR so badly. The only things I wanted to see more were the reactions of Edward and his mother when I told them that Carlisle was going to be okay.

But first, I needed to be by myself for a moment. I needed a second to freak out, laugh, splash water on my face, and despite my masculine protests, cry. I hadn't cried in years but if there was ever a moment I needed to express everything that had built up within, it was now. I had experienced fear, doubt, pain, panic and relief all within the same time it took me to notice how green Edward's eyes were when I'd first met him. Which wasn't long. So I found the staff restroom, locked myself in a urinal and sat on the covered toilet, with my chin on my hands.

A tear rolled down my cheek the second I had clasped the lock. I was undeniably overwhelmed by what had happened. Another tear fell, before another, and another and another again, until before I knew it, I was in the throws of something I'd never had the time to do since before I could remember. I pictured how Esme and Carlisle loved each other and I cried for them as I realized that Esme wasn't going to be robbed of her husband at such an untimely stage of her life. I cried that Sofia had given me the strength to believe in myself, despite my own protests. And I cried because I knew that where my potential friendship with Edward had miscarried, came a connection that would inevitably rekindle it.

Maybe I could prove to him that people weren't shallow after-all.


	5. Surprise!

Thank you, as usual, for your support and enthusiasm. I'm so lucky to have great readers like yourself behind me. Your words inspire me to keep going and so I'm glad you're all getting something out of this too.

Disclaimer: Pterodactyl will be the new host for the _Jerry Springer Show_ if I manage to not get sued. Just Sayin'.

Enjoy!

* * *

For the record, I never cried. That never happened. Nope. Never. Why are we having this conversation? I promise, Jasper Whitlock has never cried. Partially because I never had the time to, but also because I was cynical of it. I had a great professor in med-school who once told me that crying was what animals did when in danger, so the fact we humans had this instinct to cry, is actually a throw back to our animalistic days. So essentially, crying was for animals. And for six out of seven days of the week (Monday being the exception) I was no animal.

Also, I'd be lying if I denied that I didn't want the whole Carlisle-crisis to soften me. I was a surgeon, but in that OR, I was nothing more than a crumbly mess. I mean, I'd be lucky if my nurses ever thought of me as an attending again. I should have composed myself better than that, but I didn't, and as a result I felt sort of shitty about myself. So shitty, in-fact, I shivered as I remembered that Sofia was the one who pulled me through that operation. I'd remind you that Sofia was an _intern_. Jasper's confidence = Deceased. Annihilated. Obliterated.

So the question was, what came over me in that OR? I mean, Carlisle was a patient, like any other, but yet I felt this intrinsic compulsion to save him at all costs. Okay, well the whole 'I couldn't face Edward with bad news after having met him before-hand' thing was a huge part of it, but that made me even more curious; why was I feeling so attached to Edward? He _had_ pushed me up against a wall. He _had_ questioned my expertise as a general surgeon. He _had_ almost made me kill his father by sneaking into the observation deck. So why did I feel this connection with him? Actually, the question should've been, why was I so goddamn complicated? Seriously, I could've out-narrated James Joyce with the amount of thoughts that flew through my head on a daily basis.

So getting back to my thoughts here, I just wanted to be friends with Edward. I wanted him to be part of my family-of-chaos along with Pterodactyl, Bierce Fitch, Emmet and Sofia. I wanted to have stupid inside jokes with him and be able to text him one-liners that only we would understand. I wanted to be able to have eyebrow conversations with him while we sat at a table with people we didn't like. I wanted to know how to make him laugh or how to make him feel better, and I wanted to wake up every morning with some stupid picture on my phone that he'd sent me from one of his nights out. I just wanted to be with him all time time, but the problem was that I didn't know _why_. And as a doctor, I was trained to just accept things for being the way they were. Why does the lower vena-cava run behind the stomach? Because it does. Why do genes dictate one's physical attributes? Because they do. Why do some patients' bodies reject organs when other patients' don't? Shit happens. But for some reason I couldn't just accept that I wanted to see more of Edward; I needed to know why, and the fact that I wasn't content with a simple answer was mocking me constantly.

I couldn't deny that I found Edward attractive. Nope, no denying that. I mean, look at his jaw-line.. erm, ahem. So I really liked Edward, but because guys like him were never gay, I had to resign myself to the notion that if I wanted a relationship with him, it would have to be a friendship. My wanting to be with him was more than just a physical attraction; you could be attracted to someone without necessarily seeing them all the time, right? So if the reason wasn't just physical, then what was it? Emotional? I was a surgeon! Anything outside of what was physical was labelled bullshit in my mind. If it couldn't be taken into an OR, given a transplant or seen with my eyes then I didn't concern myself with it.

But yet what I felt for Edward couldn't be any of those things, yet I certainly concerned myself with it.

Ah! I hate you complicated, twisty Jasper brain! Why must you torture me like this? Why couldn't I be like those suave people who never seemed to worry about anything? I hated being so introverted. Sometimes it felt like I was too busy thinking about life to actually enjoy it. _Sigh_.

When I _would_ decide to enjoy myself, however, I'd end up feeling guilty for not doing something towards work, and that would usually be the nail in the coffin of my leisure. And if work didn't kill my chances of relaxing, then someone in my crazy family would. The last time I'd actually had _a moment to myself_, it had been the first time in months, yes _months_, and I had set aside the time and date on my calendar. When I was in the throws of it, Bierce Fitch appeared from the feline abyss and jumped on top of me as I was _finishing_. The poor thing has shrieked at the sight of mayonnaise ever since. I told Emmet what had happened, and as a result, he renamed Bierce Fitch "fap-woman." The poor cat has no dignity anymore. She's resigned herself to her role in the house.

That was the other thing about my crazy family; everybody had a role, of sorts. I, was the stressed, over-worked yet sensible and pragmatic one, whereas Emmet was the jokester and the prankster, always trying to fool someone into one of his traps. Ptero was the slick one who used his innocence and good charms to his benefit, while Bierce Fitch.._Sigh_.. Bierce Fitch was just Bierce Fitch. The newest addition to the family, Sofia, had taken the role of the naively innocent, yet incredibly sexy, Latino woman. She was a strong, fruity and matriarchal presence in the house, but without the sternness typically associated with a motherly role. She was perfect because she didn't take away from my role of enforcing law and order, yet she didn't steal Ptero's suaveness, because she wasn't actually aware of her looks, as Ptero was his own. Ooh the politics. Anyway, what I was going to say was that I felt as if Edward had a role to fill in the house. There was room for someone like him. We didn't have a broody, knitted-brow-like presence in the family, and I felt Edward filled this role perfectly. Plus, he'd have the strongest jaw-line of us all. No harm there! Just saying!

As my mind pondered Edward more and more and how much I wanted him to be a part of my craziness, I realized that I should've probably informed him of his father's well-being by now. I was sitting on the lid of the toilet for a good hour, just contemplating everything. A few people asked if I was alright, and I just grunted something back. Although I did laugh when I heard someone say to his friend, "I think the old guy in there ate a nasty burrito." I mean, seriously? They don't sell those in this hospital! Sheesh!

When the coast was clear, I got up and left the restrooms and meandered through the halls until I found the waiting room filled with worried families and children. I immediately spotted Esme staring at, but not reading, a magazine. She never turned the page and even yawned without moving her eyes from it. I then looked around for Edward but couldn't spot him. Did he leave after all? Heh, apparently not. I gazed towards the other end of the room and there I saw him flicking and twisting some plastic puzzle that was made for children. He focused on it with a knitted brow and I couldn't help but notice how cute he looked as he genuinely tried to solve it. He looked like such a big kid.

I cleared my throat and tried to stretch myself out as straightly as I could. The people in the waiting room didn't seem to notice me, so I cleared my throat again and said, "Esme and Edward Cullen?" in the steadiest tone I could. Esme's eyes shot up at me and she immediately jumped to her feet and nodded to Edward. Both of them walked up to me with wide eyes. I was a little confused as to why they looked more confused rather than nervous, but when I noticed Esme staring at my fore-head, I choked a little on my spit.

'_The blood!'_ I thought to myself.

Shit, fuck, shit! I forgot to clean it off! I had forgotten to wash off the obvious streak of Carlisle blood across my fore-head! Damage limitation was what I needed now._ Goddamn it_ Jasper. I decided to say nothing and pretend it wasn't there. I didn't want to bring any more attention to it.

"What about Carlisle?" Esme asked. I pulled myself to reality and took a breath. I didn't mean to drag this on as long as I did. Jasper was just going for gold today, apparently. I apologized and looked at her in the eyes, unable to look at Edward.

"The surgery went well," I started, calming a bit as I saw both Esme and Edward deflate a little. "It was touch and go for a minute, but luckily he's a fighter." Esme gasped a 'thank God' before adding 'that's my Carlisle.' I continued on, "But of course there is a lot to do before he's back to himself. But I'll have you both know that your husband, ugh, father, is one of the luckiest men I know. The bar never touched his stomach."

"So what _did_ it touch?" asked Esme, concern seeping back into her expression. Her arms were folded and her frame was curved.

"Nothing that would kill him," I informed, "but I had to remove his gallbladder."

Esme shrieked and Edward groaned as those words left my lips and I had to stop myself. I forgot that most normal people didn't actually know what that meant or entailed.

"Don't worry," I said, bringing a hand to Esme's arm and giving it a rub, "people live completely normal lives without gallbladders. It's like having one kidney removed, or your appendix removed. There's no dire consequences from removing it. But aside from that, Esme," I sighed and wiped my head. "He's going to need a lot of physio- therapy to heal his stomach muscles. The bar completely ruptured them, as well as many nerves. He'll have nerve damage in his abdominal region, as well as a certain amount of immobilization while he recovers. But other than that, the success of Carlisle's surgery was a miracle. He's just so lucky to be here with us.. I mean, with you, today." I did my best to smile but Edward's blank expression defeated me. Esme started shrieking with relief and she curled into him while he just stared ahead, expressionless.

Maybe this whole thing was in my head? Maybe he didn't care about who I was at all? I knew I was selfish for asking these questions during a time like this, but I couldn't help it. I felt a little beaten. In fact, I felt incredibly beaten. He didn't want to know me the way I wanted to know him.

I forced a smile to Esme and gave her shoulder another rub, aloofly this time.

"I'm glad I got to deliver good news to you two." I gave a closed smile and lifted my eyebrows. I decided that being distant would soften the blow of rejection that was beginning to hit me. I couldn't stay here and look at him anymore. I decided I needed to leave.

"He's being transferred out of my services and into to the physio department right now, where he can rest and let his scars heal." I stopped and looked down. What I was trying to say was good-bye, but my hospital language failed me. I turned around slightly to indicate my departure before saying, "Take care, both of you."

I noticed Edward's eyes fixating on me and I met them briefly. His face looked at me as if to ask whether I was serious or not, but I continued to use professionalism to hide how I felt. I turned around and walked away, feeling a hell of a lot more defeated than I had in years. I could feel Edward's eyes on me, so I crunched my shoulders and quickened my pace, eager to walk away from that situation entirely. The air around him spoke of his confusion when I departed, but there was nothing left for me there, with him or with Esme. He didn't want to be friends, and he had made that very clear. So I just walked.

* * *

Irene-queen-of-all-that-was-barren told me that I had no more cases for the day. I think she was being softer on me because of her little screw up with contacting the Cullens, as well as writing Carlisle's date of birth wrongly. I hadn't noticed that she had written "Carlisle Cullen, _thirty five years old,_" on his chart. Unless Edward was conceived when Carlisle was ten, I doubted very much that the information was accurate. I took great pleasure in calling Irene out on that one too. When I was speaking to her, I again, used professionalism to hide what was going on inside, and what was going on inside was something like,_ "take that you stupid old, wrinkly fun-sponge!" _Even saying that much was a huge step up for me; I had convinced myself that Irene could read minds. Seriously, she had eyes in places unexplored by mankind.

I couldn't wait to go home and just throw myself onto my bed. I didn't want to see light, I didn't want to talk to anyone, and I didn't even want to stay awake. I just wanted to close my mind off and stay to myself. The whole thing with Edward depressed me. Because my job didn't let me socialize too much, I completely forgot what rejection felt like. Most people were just immune to it at my age, but I never developed through the stages of it to become indifferent. I felt it and dwelled on it, but yet I hated it. I hated that I had lost an opportunity to have a new friend, and I felt inadequate by so many standards. And now, I felt whiny too.

In the car home, I didn't even blast one of my songs to sing along with. Instead, I drove quietly and expressionlessly as I cut through the city and swerved into my garage. It was raining outside too, and the distant hue of the Seattle sky-line glittered amidst the fallen raindrops. I took it in for a moment, its beauty, its life, before I turned around and entered the building I lived in. In contrast, I felt lifeless.

When I got to my floor, the lights were off. I had to fiddle with my keys for ten solid minutes before I could identify the right one and slip it into the hole. I turned it and entered. My apartment was dark too, and this was strange because I always left at least one light on to make burglars think someone was inside. I huffed and flicked on the lights, only to be shocked by a..

"Surprise!"

I jumped in shock and saw Emmet, Ptero and Bierce Fitch at the table, with human and animal food alike set across it with lighted candles. Even my favorite table cloths were spread out. I watched in silence for a moment and noticed that they were all wearing party hats while sporting party-blowers in their mouths, well in Emmet's case at least. Ptero was perched on the chair at the side of the table, and Bierce was curled on the opposite side, while Emmet sat regally at the end of the table, his hand positioning his hat. I blinked a few times. What was happening?

"Did we surprise you?" Emmet asked, laughing and signaling to my animals. "We wanted to make it unexpected so I taught the bird to shout 'surprise' when you walked in. He's good, eh?"

They had a party? For me?

"Emmet," I drawled, blinking too many times. "What's all this about?" I think he thought I was joking because he laughed at me before throwing a party hat in my direction. "Don't act stupid," he said, "you know what day it is today."

"I do?" I hadn't the slightest idea. Christmas? Thanksgiving? New Years? Halloween? 4th of July? Your guess was as good as mine. I didn't even know what the date was, never-mind the event.

"You have no idea, do you?" he asked, mouth open. He stood up, walked up to me and shoved a party-blower in my mouth. _Erm, what?_

_"_It's your birthday, Jasper," he informed, eyeing me suspiciously, and almost pitifully, as if to ask if something was wrong. What I liked about Emmet was that he just said things straight; he was a clearer of bullshit, and I appreciated that. "Are you okay?" he asked, "you look like you survived sixty days on a desert island."

_Right. Thanks Emmet. _

"I've had the worst day," I said, dizzily placing myself on the chair and rubbing my head. "I don't know where to begin."

"At the beginning," he responded. I shivered at how pedantic he was. I loved how literal he was though. Even though I was the logical one, he made things seem so much clearer. Emmet was teaching me that things didn't need to be as complicated as I let them be.

I breathed out. "Right. Well, do you remember Edward?"

"The guy in the bar you were drooling over? Yeah."

"I wasn't drooling over him!" I defended, "I just wanted to be friends with him!" My arguing was futile, however, as Emmet just huffed and punched me. "Sure," he drawled out, winking at me. "_Just friends_."

I rolled my eyes and continued. "Well he came to the hospital after an accident. His father was impal- erm, injured and was put on my service. I had to operate on him knowing that Edward was waiting outside, and.." I stopped, "well, it was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I mean, what if he died, Em? What if I killed him and had to face Edward afterwards?" I felt my breathing quicken and a headache planted itself in my head.

"Well did he die?" Emmet asked.

"No!" I responded. "Of course not. You think I would've let that happen?"

"No, I don't. And either do you. So what are you worrying about?"

Okay, this simplistic thing Emmet was doing was starting to annoy me. I know I said I appreciated it, but.. ugh.. Just allow me to change my mind, okay?

"Because he could have died," I snapped. "Don't you see what _could_ have happened?"

Emmet sighed and wiped his hand across his eyes. "Yeah but it didn't happen, did it? And you just said that you wouldn't have let it happen anyway, so what're you worried about?"

Checkmate. Damn you, Emmet! How were you so good at using my thoughts against me? The truth to his question was that I had no idea what I was worried about. I was worried about _what if_, despite Emmet's logic, and I was sweating myself over rejection. Shit. I hated that word. I hated how it sounded in my mouth. Rejection. Rejection.

I was rejected.

"You're right," I sighed. "It was just a shock, that's all. Thanks Em."

"No problem," he said. "But just because I'm curious, what did Edward say when you saved his dad?"

Ugh. Pain. In. Stomach.

"Nothing," I sighed. "He just kind of.. stared. I sorta figured he didn't want to see me again, so I walked away."

Then, Emmet facepalmed himself. "Jasp," he moaned, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes slightly. I hated when he'd _"Jasp"_ me. He did it all the time when he wanted to make a point. He continued on. "You know when you get something into your head and you just kinda.. run with it?"

I had no idea what he was talking about. I was shit at running.

"I do?"

"Yeah, you do. One thing happens that's out of the ordinary and you kind of think it's something to do with you; as if everyone does something to get at you. Most of the time Jasp, people aren't thinking about you half as much as you think they are."

"So Edward isn't thinking about me?" I asked.

"I never said that," he groaned. "I just said that in that moment he was probably so relieved that his Dad was okay, that nothing else, erm, registered with him. You get me?"

I "got" him too much, unfortunately. Was I a narcissist? I mean, I knew I was a worrier, but what Emmet said struck a chord with me. It was true, too. I often tended to get a notion into my head and decorated it with my insecurities. What if there was something wr-?

"There's nothing wrong with you," he sighed, letting out a deep breath before ruffling my hair. _And a touch-down for Emmet the psychic!_ "I know you're thinking it. You worry too much, Jasper. Sometimes you just have to accept that things are the way they are and that not everything is - and I mean this in the nicest way possible - about you." He smiled apologetically.

What, what, what? I never knew I acted like everything was about me? Ah, that shrinking feeling in my diaphragm was crippling me. I mean, what if Irene was a bitch to me all this time because of my attitude? What if Edward couldn't stand me because I was too self-obses-?

"Jasper, _stop_!" he moaned, shaking my shoulder and pinning me with his eyes. I flicked my pensive face up and glared at him. He was highlighting what was wrong with me - what did he expect? "_You're_ doing this to me!" I reminded, but he was having none of it.

"I wouldn't be your friend if I didn't say what I thought," he started, sighing with exhaustion. "I'm just saying that you don't know what Edward was thinking, so quit filling in the blanks yourself. You're a great guy Jasper, a great person.. stop questioning that." He pinched the bridge of his nose as if to suggest that he was trying to get something through to me. "And look, Edward's retarded if he can't see that."

Awww. Emmet could be so sweet when he wanted to be. It was rare he'd open up like this, and I softened as I realized that he was opening up _for_ me, rather than _to_ me. Now I knew why he was my friend. Because he knew me - sometimes better than I knew myself. So I took back what I said before; I loved his honesty, and I loved how he was part of my life. Ah, this made me feel so much better.

I smiled. "I don't know what to say, Em. Thanks."

Then, he was the one to smile. He got up and reached for a bottle of Baileys that was yet to be opened, and he poured a glass. "Just drink this."

We both drank at the same time and felt the sting of the alcohol go down our throats. It was just what I needed after the day I'd had. Except, a log fire and some smores wouldn't have been frowned upon either. As we stayed up talking to each other, laughing and drinking, I realized how well Emmet knew me. I had realized a lot of things today; a lot of things that I didn't necessarily expect.

Expectations were funny things, weren't they? I often thought that if they played out perfectly, then life would be very boring indeed. On the other hand, if we could mould the future to reflect our expectations, then a lot of shit wouldn't happen to us, would it? The funny thing was that now that things were somewhat _clear_, it was my expectations that fooled me and led me to believe that what happened later that night, would never have happened.

Boy was I wrong.

* * *

"And then I told her, "Hey Sofia! Don't forget to call me!"" Emmet slammed the glass onto my table while I roared out laughing. I knew he liked Sofia! Hah! I was sy-kik.. that's how you spell it, right? Siiiikiiiik.. I thought there was a 'p' in there somewhere? Sypkik? Is that right? Ooh, my glass was full, thanks Emmet! I knocked it back.

"Do you think I have a shot?" he asked, trying to keep his head straight.

"Go for it!" I commanded, wrapping my arm around him "You deserve good! Iyum happy fer you!"

He turned to look at me. "Y'wouldn't mind? She's your friend n'all.."

I slapped his shoulder. "V'course n'I wouldn't mind, Em! I love y'both. Except, it wouldn't mean you'd be gone all th'time, woulds it?"

"Maybies a little," he apprised, eyes swirling. "You like havin' me around?"

If only he knew! I loved having Emmet around! He was like my side-kick, my confidant. I could say anything to him and could joke about any topic while knowing it wouldn't offend him. That was the beauty of friendship, right? We could be honest. Brutally honest, in fact.

I choked out laughing. "V'course I do! Buh I'd like it more if you show'd off yer biceps. Heh. I like your biceps."

Emmet laughed at me and gave his arms a squeeze. I always poked fun at him for having such nice arms. It was nothing new. However, inspiration struck my friend's face as he stood up and said, "Y'mean, these?" He took off his jacket so that he was only wearing a white T-shirt, and lifted his arm and flexed it. "I dun see what you like 'bout 'em." Mmm, seeing him take off his jacket had a strange effect on me, but I just laughed and put it down to the alcohol. There was no point in _not_ having a look at his guns, right? I mean, guns were guns - they were made to be admired.

My eyesight panned in and out. Everything was so much more poetic and vivid when I was drunk, too. I knew he had nice arms, but woah! These were incredible; so defined, so smooth.. so.. Did the room just get warmer? I couldn't resist touching them, so I reached forward and gave his arms a squeeze. He didn't seem to mind, according to my drunken self, so I continued to feel them. They weren't the only hard muscles in the room, though.

I hiccuped and inflated my chest a little. _So attractive, Jasper. _"Sofia'd be lucky to have these," I spewed, grabbing them to keep myself up. "They're sooolid, Em."

My drunken friend leaned back against the chair and let his surroundings circle him. I was surprised that he didn't jump up, call me a creep and punch me. Instead, he laid back and stretched against the chair, his face blessed with a slight smile. "I'd be lyin'," he started, his expression tilted, "If I said tha' didn't feel good."

Hehehe! I was making Emmet feel good! Hehehehe! It was so funny because Emmet was often more crude than I was. Seeing him relaxed and responding so well to my touch was.. a pleasant surprise. I squeezed harder and massaged his arms with my fingers, pushing and pressing into his muscles. He drunkenly groaned and placed his other arm up behind his head. Although my head was spinning and was being controlled by a toxin of a powerful caliber, I managed to slide my hand further up the sleeves of his upper-arms and started massaging his shoulder under his shirt. He groaned again as I pressed my thumbs into him; I could smell his scent. It was earthy, manly and almost as if he had been camping in the mountains.

"Heh, Emmet likes massages," I commented with a drunken chuckle, pressing harder onto his shoulders. Emmet laughed back and pulled up his sleeve to give me more room to rub him. The higher up I went, the thicker his muscles were.

"Emmet likes Jasp's hands," he replied, stretching, while I circled his shoulders with my thumb. I didn't know how this was happening but I knew that I liked it. I knew that I was finding it very hot, even though it was my best-friend who was the object of this affection. I brought my hands higher and curled my fingers into each muscle as I uncovered it.

I liked this.

I chanced my luck and started thumbing the nape of his neck as I brought another hand to gently circle his earlobe. He pressed the air out of himself as I did so, and I could see his chest expand against his T-shirt. I hadn't seen Emmet in this light before. In fact, for the first time ever, I felt a little _attracted_ to him. It felt so wrong, but yet I wanted more. I hadn't been with anyone in so long, and I sought companionship. Emmet had been there for me; he was there when I needed him, and what he said to me meant so much. I couldn't identify what I was feeling, or what I wanted. All I knew was that I cared about him, and I wanted what was best for him.

And was this it?

My questioning-tendency continued to be dismissed by the alcohol, and I smiled widely at him while continuing to massage his neck and ears. Maybe this was all wrong. Maybe I shouldn't have been doing this. But I now sought release. I needed release. I needed to be reminded that I had a life outside of the OR, so I continued on, while Emmet continued to groan and melt into my touch. I could see the bulge in his jeans growing, too. That really surprised me. I didn't know that he wanted this too.

Then Emmet lifted up his shirt and pulled it off, allowing me to gaze at the contours, shadows and lines that perfected the definition of his muscles. Yes, this was wrong, and a part of me tried to stop myself, but I wasn't in control. This wasn't me; this wasn't him. There were red-flags everywhere, but yet my mind wouldn't let me react. I needed someone, and apparently so did he.

My hands caressed his chest and pressed against the firmness of his body. He was strong, so very strong, and I felt safe being near him. So safe, in fact, I wanted to be nearer, so I got up from my seat and lowered myself on top of him, facing him and sitting the opposite way on the chair. I could feel his heart under my hands and his pulse beneath my fingers. Emmet was alive, and so was I. I needed to remember that. I needed to remember that we were two people who needed each other.

Emmet watched me straddle him lustfully as I leaned down to kiss him, biting slightly on his bottom lip as my hands ascended to run through his hair. He moaned beneath me and pulled me against him, his tongue sloping into my mouth. I felt so hot all over; I didn't want this to end. I had years of no companionship to catch up on. I pulled his arms into the air and felt his triceps before I tugged on his nipple with my thumb and index finger. He let out a growl and pulled my shirt from over my head. I leaned back to kiss him, again and again, not able to get enough. I forgot that he needed to breath, so I let him break away and take a breath.

"What're we doing?" he panted, his hands against me. I moved in and kissed him again because not being pressed up against him made me dizzy. But I then broke away to answer him the best I could, but I wasn't exactly thinking.

"Being human," I whispered. That was what we were doing, right? Being human? I hardly remembered what it was like to be normal, being locked in the OR for so many years. So I dived into his chest and brought my tongue to it. He gasped as I licked up each line and bump that defined him and his hand made its way to my auburn, almost brown hair. I wonder what I'd look like if I were blonde? Heh, blondes. Imagine me a blonde?

"No, I mean, should we being doing this?" he asked, between groans.

"It's what I want," I replied, or more accurately, the alcohol replied. I knew somewhere in the back of mind that it wasn't fair of me to say that to him, and when he pulled me up into his embrace, I had to consciously eschew my guilt.

I couldn't help but scratch down his chest as he kissed me, and he moaned against me as I did so. I never thought Emmet would be the person I'd share myself with. I needed him, and he seemed to need me as we kissed so strongly against each other. Except, I felt I needed more. When he finally broke his mouth from mine, I kissed down his chest and unbuckled his belt, drawing my tongue across his naval on my way down. He looked at me with uncertainty in his eyes.

"Jasp, I-"

I looked up at him, my vision hazy, and gave him a smile. "Dun' worry Em. I got chya."

I unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them off. He was already hard, and I couldn't help but wonder if there was something he wasn't telling me all along. Oh well. I had a job to do. I kissed him over his underwear and heard him take a loud, deep breath. I palmed him powerfully and watched as his chest creased and flattened out as I stroked him. His head dangled over the back of the chair as he stretched out and seeing him so relaxed made me pull off his boxers and wrap a hand around him.

"Oh Christ, Jasp-" he gasped, as I picked up my speed. "Ugh, what're we doin-? _ugh_."

I hadn't felt like this in years. So alive, so alert.. as if the beating of his heart had set something off in me. His life, his legacy was in my hand and I stroked him with the energy I had long sought, to break the stand-by mode that I'd become accustomed to. My hand moved up and down, and with each pump, I felt my heart beast faster and my pulse quicken as Emmet groaned and moaned loudly.

A hand clasped around my head and his body then stretched out completely, causing him to elevate from the chair as I continued to stroke him. "I'm gonna.. Jasper.. I'm gonna...!"

I quickened my pace and pumped him up and down, up and down, until he exploded, shooting all the way up his chest. I watched, either guiltily or gloriously as his body twitched with the pleasure I had given him. His chest heaved inwards and back outwards again before he jerked a little and panted in a way that was almost animalistic as he came to an end.

The reality of the situation sobered me, and I looked up at him. His face was as mine, unsure how to feel, except he seemed to have fear where I had apprehension. My worries seeped back into me as I wondered if I had come between our friendship, while he panted and watched me, thoughts and feelings shooting through him. It was clear that neither of us were sure if this was what we wanted.

We remained still, silent, as we watched each other, both unable to speak, and confused over what had come over us.

As you can see, my expectations and certainty of the future had fooled me completely. Nothing was clear anymore. Nothing made sense.

What had we done?


	6. Edward the Moth

Thank you as usual for your interest and enthusiasm. I can't thank you all enough for guiding me and helping me better my writing. You're all so great.

And on the topic of greatness, remember how I said I was looking everywhere for a Beta-Reader? Well irony has crossed my path because over the weekend, I became a beta-reader for the incredible writer Arukewari. Well, I use the term "beta-reader" lightly; I didn't do much because she had mostly everything covered. Anyway, the story is called "Rainbow Colored Happiness," and I think it would be a great story to check out. The plot is harrowing and hopeful at the same time and the themes used are layered with onion-like depth. So check this one out :).

Thank you again for your interest :-)

Disclaimer: If I get sued, Jasper will never get to sky dive off the Cristo Redentor statue in Rio De Janeiro. Just Sayin'.

* * *

"Emmet.. what just happened?" I asked, my eyes wide and a hand at my mouth. "We..?"

He nodded slowly, his mouth opening a little. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Shit. Jasper, you've really out done yourself this time. This was never meant to happen; Emmet wasn't even gay! I wasn't even attracted to him. I had _never_ been attracted to him. I mean, I always knew he was an attractive guy, but he was never my type. I placed him in the 'best straight-male friend' category from the day I met him and never looked back. So what changed? Alcohol? Desperation? _Rejection_? I grew cold. I never wanted this.

I drew my hand across my face while handing Emmet his jeans. I didn't want to see him exposed anymore, because it was a reminder of the damage I'd caused. I felt as if he was the sun, and I couldn't keep my eyes on him. I was so ashamed of myself; so ashamed for losing control and making Emmet the object of my sorrows. It wasn't fair. Because _I_ had been rejected by Edward, Emmet had to suffer. And Emmet was my friend, my family, I didn't want to see him like this.

I forced myself to look at him, despite the shame that crippled me, and I said something to break the stabbing silence.

"Em.. Emmet," I started, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." I looked at my hands and cursed them, while Emmet stayed in the chair, as blank as Edward was back in the hospital. I didn't want to know what was flicking through his mind right then, but I knew it had to be fear. This was unknown territory for us both. He kept breathing heavily and stared up at the ceiling.

"Are you okay?" I asked, taking a shaky breath. "I need to know you're okay."

Emmet looked down at me and cleared his throat. Fuck, I wanted to hug him and apologize over and over and tell him that he'd never see me again but I valued our friendship too much to do that. Emmet wiped his face and eventually spoke.

"Man, how much did we drink?" he asked, stretching.

"Too much."

A silence befell us. I didn't know what else to say, and evidently, either did he. The quietness inflated past my ability to stand it, so I decided to leave it altogether.

"I need to take a shower." I got up and turned away, but as I did so, I was called back.

"You're not going anywhere. Need to talk, J." His words made me shudder a bit, but I turned around, somewhat grateful that he hadn't scurried out of the room yet. I nodded and sat down opposite him, my hands between my legs and my head tilted. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it over himself before zipping and buttoning his jeans once again, so that he looked like the Emmet I always knew. I looked up to signal that I was ready to hear what he had to say, and he pinned me with his eyes again.

"I'm not sure how this happened," he started, stroking his stubble, "but whatever it was, I don't want you freaking out and thinking things have changed."

I breathed-out, burdened by panic. "What do you mean? How can you say that? Of course things have changed!"

"They don't have to," he responded, at a calmer tone. It was peculiar; even in moments like these, Emmet was still able to make things so much easier to cope and deal with. "Even though you think you've ruined everything, you're still my best friend."

With that, he undid me. "But how?" I gasped, standing up and circling the room. "How can you say that? I took advantage of you, _used_ you, because I was sad about Edward, sad about being on my own for so long. How can you seriously call me your best friend after that?" I was confused. I didn't deserve his compassion.

"Quit blaming yourself all the time, you douche." Had I been closer, he would have punched me. "I didn't exactly push you off me. It takes two to do these kinda things. Ugh, unless it's rape, where in that case, it's one."

_Smooth Emmet, thanks. _

I took a breath, and he went on. "This was what I meant when I said you think about the bad shit too much. I let it happen too, so blame me if you want. I'm fucking sick of you freaking out like a girl when surprising things happen to you."

A girl? Freaking out? I'll have you know that I'm an attending surg-

"And I don't care that you're a surgeon," he said, causing me to jump. How the hell did he do that? How could he read my mind? Ahh, Emmet, screw you and your weird ways. "You're able to stitch holes in stomachs and guts but you're not able to deal with the fact you gave me a handjob. Get over it. Shit happens."

"You were all freaked out a while ago," I reminded bitterly.

"Yeah, it was a shock," he explained with a shrug. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to be here to tease you when you fall over, or punch you when you say something stupid. I aint that easy to get rid of, J-boy."

My worries deflated from me. Not many people could say that they had friends with heads as screwed on as Emmet's. I wish I had his perspective sometimes. He just made things make so much more sense, where I complicated everything. We were opposites in that sense, so we made a good team. Except, one other thing still bothered me.

"Em, I thought you were straight?" I shuddered a little at how blunt that was, but I wanted to know. I felt bad that I hadn't bothered asking him about his sexual orientation earlier in our friendship; I just assumed he was straight.

"I am," he remarked matter-of-factually, sending me a message of nonchalance with a shrug of his shoulders. I lifted an eyebrow before he explained, "One, I was drunk. Two, I'm not the first guy in the world to fool around with his best friend, and three, I was horny all day."

Well, erm, that was that.

"So you don't like guys? I mean, you were pretty har-"

"_Cool thanks_, Jay," he interrupted, cheeks red. "I was drunk and horny. Sue me."

I managed to laugh. "You had me fooled." I rolled my eyes and at that, Emmet came up to me and punched me. I had never been so happy to be punched in my life; the normal Jasper vs Emmet behavior was coming back from the supposed dead. We stayed and talked a little more about everything; what had happened and what we were going to do to help _me_ get over it. Emmet assured me that it was 'just having some fun,' and that I needed to stop 'taking things so seriously.' I couldn't help but apologize for putting him in a situation like that, but he assured me that it 'takes two to tango.' If anything, this experience with Emmet actually proved to me how straight he was. He was so comfortable with who he was that he could actually put last night's fiasco down to a few drinks without questioning himself in any way. If I were in his shoes, and I had fooled around with, let's say Sofia, I'd definitely freak out that I were straight. But that was the difference between us. Emmet knew who he was, whereas I didn't.

I still felt guilty for corrupting him with my sexuality. I felt I had ruined his innocence, of sorts, as if I had brought a child into a battle-zone. Except it took me a while to realize that that child didn't mind being in the battle-zone at all. I was so lucky to have had strong people like Emmet in my life, and in ways, I was lucky this happened to us. It made me realize how much I needed people like him around, to keep me from falling into myself too often. After Emmet had left, and assured me that he'd be back to check up on me later, I found myself procrastinating on my computer, just reading miscellaneous medical journals and trashy web-articles. For some reason, I decided to Google the origins of Emmet's name. I found out that his name, Emmet, meant "universal, all-contained strength." His parents named him well, eh? I found out that my own name came from some stupid rock from the Middle East. There's a mind-blower!

Emmet, Mr. AllContainedStrength, stayed true to his word and came back with parcels of Chinese food later that night. We ate them together, in silence, while watching the cheesiest horror flick you could imagine. I laughed as he laughed, and we punched each other and made sex-jokes as usual. I, of course, always went too far, and would cause Emmet to just sigh, "dude, no." I teased him that the girl he found hottest would get murdered first, and of course, she did, much to his chagrin. I told him that his love was poison and he responded with a, "well then you better get yourself checked out." Hah. So funny, Emmet. It appeared he was already at the joking stage of what had happened between us.

He eventually nodded off on my sofa after the third movie, so I threw a blanket at him and told him he looked like a baby - girl - while he slept. His eyes flicked open and he punched me, much to my surprise, so I tossed a plate of noodles at him. Soon enough, my apartment was destroyed by oriental sauces and vegetables and Emmet and I were covered from head-to-toe with food. I cursed him light-heartedly and stepped into the shower, washing myself clean. Emmet went home and did the same, only to come back afterwards with a new rake of movies.

I was surprised that I hadn't been called by Irene-destroyer-of-fun during the night, so I was a little on edge, waiting for my buzzer to call me to work. Emmet told me that if I didn't stop staring at it, then he'd flush it down the toilet, so I duly locked it away in my bedroom. While watching the movies, I joked that Emmet should watch 'BrokeBack Mountain' now that he'd had his first gay experience. He said that 'over his dead body' would he watch it, so I threw the case for 'The Terminator' at him, and said I wouldn't watch it until he watched my movie first. He acquiesced with fear, but in his defense, he got through it without squirming too much. But I too had to bite the bullet and suffer through the unnecessary explosions and gunshots surrounding Arnie Schwarzenegger which amounted to nothing in terms of a greater plot. I enjoyed my movies to have intricate stories, but Emmet was more partial to 3D wars and fight scenes that existed for the sake of existing.

By this stage, the sun started to come up and Emmet started to nod off again. I couldn't wait much longer myself, but I managed to hold it for some time before sleep claimed me. When I woke up to the sound of Pterodactyl quoting what he'd heard on the Oprah Winfrey Show, Emmet and Bierce Fitch were curled up together and both snoring, Emmet being the slightly louder one. I laughed and threw a pillow at them. It hit Bierce Fitch with a cottony smack and her fur became electric as her nails dug into Emmet's chest. He howled loudly in pain while I collapsed laughing and fell off the sofa with a thud. Emmet then sniggered at me in revenge, before picking up Bierce Fitch and dropping her on my face.

After I finished picking the cat hairs out of my mouth, I went to check my buzzer to see if I'd been called to work. Much to my surprise, I had not, and I in turn asked Emmet if he wanted to go out and get breakfast. He agreed and we soon left.

When we got home a few hours later, he told me that he had some errands to run and that he'd be back later. I thanked him for being there for me, for understanding me, and he replied kindly with a,

"Anytime, J-man, anytime."

Over the next week, Emmet and I became closer friends than ever before. There were new elements to our friendship in that he was more protective over me than he had usually been. I think he realized that I was more of a worrier than he previously thought, so he constantly reminded me that he was there if I needed to talk. It was nice knowing that I had someone at my back for when things went wrong; even though I could take care of myself, it was a settling notion that I was under someone's wing. I couldn't doubt that Emmet was my best friend now - he knew pretty much everything about me. And I loved so much about him, including the bad things. Although, I loved and admired so much about Emmet, I acknowledged this from the perspective of a _friend, _only.

In retrospect, I think Emmet was wrong about one thing. He said that what happened between us wouldn't change anything, and on that point, he was wrong. It did change something between us. We were now closer friends than we had ever been before, and I knew that no matter where I was in the world, I could count on Emmet to fly over and help me, or at least be there to listen to me when things were down.

Yeah, he was wrong. Something _did_ change. But who said that change had to be a bad thing?

* * *

Well, that was short lived. My break from work lasted exactly 50.456 hours before I was called back to work with a pat on the back from my colleagues, who said, "well done for lasting two whole days." Yep, it was almost a record breaker; two whole days without a single beep from the buzzer and I had almost broken the record of four days without being called to work, set by a surgeon in the 1950s. The fact I wasn't needed told me that there must have been a drop in accidents and illnesses in the past week. Although that was a good thing, it was accidents and illnesses that kept me employed. Ahem. Too sadistic to say? My bad.

So anyway, it had been two weeks since my encounter with Emmett and my operation on Carlisle. One of the nice nurses from the physio department found me and told me that Carlisle wanted to see me, but I respectfully declined, for reasons I'm sure you know of. I think it was natural for humans to avoid what they felt was a burden. That's why waking up in the mornings for work or school was always so daunting for people, because we had a natural tendency to feel strongly opposed to what our bodies found pestering. This was the case with me and Edward; I didn't want to face Carlisle, in fear that that would connect me back to Edward, and being connected back to him would mean facing more rejection. Moreover, we've established by now that rejection made me do stupid things. Stupid, stupid things. So for now, I would steer clear of the physio department.

That nice nurse who worked on behalf of Carlisle continued to hound me, though, informing me over and over again that her patient, Carlisle, wanted to see me. I must have declined about fifteen times before I just started hiding behind corners when I saw her. I swear, Irene-slayer-of-serenity was rubbing off on the nurses here. My list of nursing allies was growing thin. Soon, I'd have to resurrect Candice from the pits of the Pit itself, with hopes that her isolation somewhat preserved her. Well, if she hadn't perished by now, but it was worth a shot if I was desperate.

Sometimes I wished I could bring Pterodactyl to work with me. I'd teach him how to shout profanities at Irene before flying away as she'd turn around to see who it was. I could create a nursing civil war that way, couldn't I? Aha! A plan I had - albeit an idealistic one. Maybe in a perfect world where Irene was slower in her reflexes, or Ptero faster in his. Neither of which was the case, though, so I just resigned myself to a further life under the regime of wrinkly Irene.

Shit. I was rambling. Sorry, I didn't mean to ramble this much. Thing is, I was still sort of bothered by the whole Carlisle situation. I didn't want him to think that I was avoiding him for some reason, or as if I was acting as the snobby surgeon who 'didn't have time to check up on former patients.' I did want to see him again because he was a miracle patient of mine (_ahem_, and Edward's father, _ahem_) but I didn't want to throw myself back into a situation that would just cause me to be desperate or rejected.. _again_. So yes, moving swiftly on.

When I was in doubt about anything, I took it on myself to visit my role model, Julian. Problems just slipped away when I entered ward 17C and sat beside the little champ himself. So I did just that, but interrupted him while he was writing in his green book. He aptly shut it closed and slipped it under his pillow with a devilish smile. He then nodded to me and beckoned me to the corner of his bed.

"You'll never see what's inside it," he said, still smiling, "so you might as well give it up."

I chuckled. "I'll see what's in there some day, Mr Hart, if it's the last thing I do."

"You'd have to take me down first."

My nose shriveled as I sniggered. "Doable."

I sneaked up to him while he crawled under the blankets and shrieked as I tickled him unmercifully until he begged me to stop. "Jasper! I surrender!" he shouted over and over, while I continued on anyway until he broke free of my grasp and grabbed my hands.

"Surgeons know the most ticklish spots!" I reminded with a grin as he stuck his tongue out at me. Our laughing lulled and I placed myself on the chair beside his bed and glanced up at his monitor. No change since last time.

"So tell me," I then started, "how are you feeling?" I closed his chart so that he wouldn't feel as if he needed to have a right answer. He took a breath and replied,

"Fine, I guess, but a whole lot better when you visit me."

My heart warmed and I gave his back a fervent rub before he stated that that 'tickled.' I stopped and chuckled before responding.

"I wish I could visit you more." I didn't think he realized how true that was. I'd set up a bed beside his if I could. Julian then gave me a smile before I stood up and pulled the blankets to his chin. He cuddled his head into the pillow and yawned. "Thanks Jasper."

I smiled and turned to leave before I was called back. "Hey," he said, grabbing my attention. I turned around and looked at him. "Remember when you said you had a bunch of new patients coming in? What happened?"

My stomach dropped slightly as I remembered everything that had, in fact, happened. But instead of using professionalism to hide the truth, I used my adultness. I couldn't exactly say, _"well Julian, I met this guy at a bar one night and then his father came into me the next day with a half meter pole through his body, at which point he almost died of blood-loss as I removed his gallbladder before being pushed up against a wall and given a panic attack. Then that same guy barely reacted when I told him his Dad was okay, I took that personally, went home and took my sorrows out on my best friend in the form of sexual activity." _Seriously? My life was fucked up.

I cleared my throat. "Nothing all that exciting happened. A man got a little injured and I had to remove an organ."

Not a complete lie, right? Work with me here.

Julian's face perked up and he clutched the blankets. "What organ?" he asked. I had a feeling this was going into his note-book.

"A gallbladder," I responded. That part of the surgery was no big deal for me, but Julian's mouth opened widely and he repeated the word under his breath a few times. "What happened to him after that?"

He was at that questioning age, where he'd ask 'why' to pretty much everything you said. I didn't mind usually, but talking about Carlisle's surgery was bringing back unwanted memories. "He went to recovery," I said, probably boringly. I was keeping this as vague as possible. Julian's mouth shaped itself into a small circle and he exhaled. "Oh." There was a brief silence before he then asked, "did he have family?"

Yep. A son. I'd say no more.

"A son." I cleared my throat and pretended to yawn. "You must be tired, how about you get some sleep?"

"I want to hear about the man," he said enthusiastically. Damn, I just couldn't say no to him, so I brought myself back to the chair and sat down.

"What else do you want to know?" I asked.

"What was his family like?"

Beautiful.

"They were worried. But that's understandable."

He nodded slowly before asking again. "Did he have kids? My age?"

I drew my head from side to side. "He had kids alright, but I only know of one. He's more my age, though."

Even though I was trying to sound disinterested in my story so that I wouldn't encourage Julian to ask more questions, he seemed to draw the enthusiasm to ask from else-where. Most likely his childhood curiosity.

"What was his son's name?"

Right. This one was going to be hard. Just saying that name was going to be like pushing nails out of my lungs.

"Ed," I coughed and stopped. "Edward."

"And what's Edward doing now?"

Not sending me texts or having insides jokes with me; not appreciating that I wanted to be there for him, even though I had no idea why. Not arriving at my door spontaneously with a six-pack of beer. That's what.

"Probably taking care of his father," I apprised honestly. I didn't want to delve into this any further, so I stood up and pulled the blankets up to Julian's chin again.

"You should be a detective - it's a job all about asking questions. You'd be great at it." I turned to leave.

"Ha!" he laughed. "You should be a politician - it's a job all about keeping secrets. You'd be great at it."

Seriously, he was ten years old. Where did he come out with shit like this? I patted his arm affectionately and wished him well, holding back my snigger at his little comment. I flicked off the light and entered the hall, only to see the light flicked back on and a book pulled from beneath a pillow before the scratching sound of pencil to paper was heard.

* * *

When I left Julian's room, I was arrested by the sound of moving scrubs and the pitter-patter of hospital slippers. I turned around to see Carlisle's nurse eyeing my suspiciously, with the distant grin of Irene behind her.

Shit. Irene gave me up and this nurse had tracked me down. This was an inside job, to say the least. Fuck, I'd need another reason for why I couldn't see Carlisle. I smiled as innocently as I could before trying to step past her, with hopes of eluding her persuasions completely.

"Where do you think _you're_ going?" she asked, arms folded and chin up. I grinned guiltily and rubbed my hands together. "I have some patients to see," I lied.

A voice in the background sent a shiver down my spine. "Oh but you _don't_!" Irene called, her eyes squinted with an evil smile across her face. "You have no more patients for the night! A coincidence, isn't it?"

I growled under my breath. "Quite the coincidence," I mumbled, knowing full well that she'd assigned my cases else where. She knew I didn't want to see Carlisle, that was obvious by my evasions, and apparently she joined up with Carlisle's nurse to corner me. This was definitely her revenge for me calling her out on the mistakes she'd made on Carlisle's chart, as well as her screw-up when she never phoned the family. Who knew my work-place hosted conspiracies?

There was no point playing this game, so I took a deep breath. "Look," I sighed, pushing the breath out of myself, "I'd really prefer to not see Mr Cullen. He has a lot of recovering to do and I don't want to disturb him. And please," I stopped and sighed again, "please stop following me around to ask if I want to see him. My answer is no and I'd like it if you could respect that." Professionalism? Check.

The nurse tilted her face while I noticed Irene holding back a cackle. "What're you talking about?" she asked, brows knitted. "I'm here to tell you that there's someone asking for you in the hall. Sheesh." She grunted as she walked past me, and I could see Irene howling away behind her desk. Ha-Ha, very funny Irene, you made me make a fool of myself. So mature. Really, you showed me who's boss.

I grunted and ambled past her as if she wasn't there. It was better that I kept my mouth shut, because the ghost of Pterodactyl was about to possess me and put me on the brink of drowning her with a long list of profanities. That woman made me all sorts of violent.

My mind shot back to what the nurse said and I scratched my head as I wondered who it could be. Ahh, that's right. I remembered Sofia saying something about meeting up with her after work. I decided that I'd greet her with a cheesy line of Spanish she'd taught me, of which had become an inside joke of ours. I dumped my charts on the table and marched confidently around the corner, a wide smile on my face and my chest inflated.

When I appeared around the corner, I blubbered, "_Cuidado preciosa, tantas curvas y yo sin freno!"_

Except, I heard no reply, only silence, and I could picture tumbleweed tossing itself past me as I heard no fruity laugh or no big boobs against my chest. Erm, Sofia? I opened my eyes to see no such person. The hall was empty, Sofia-less, and I rouged as I saw that my cheesy Spanish had not met the ears of the intended recipient. Shuddering, I looked around and noticed that there was only one person in the hall - apparently the person who was asking for me.

My eyes must have been deceiving me, or else Irene had spiked my drink.

"Edward?" I gasped. Edward? _Edward? _This wasn't happening. I wasn't sure whether to flee from the face of rejection itself, or run over and embrace it with all my strength. I thought I'd been drugged or was hallucinating with tiredness, but as my vision remained consistent, I realized that Edward Cullen was standing before me.

We didn't walk closer to each other, probably because we were too shy to, but he then broke the ice and walked up to me, his hands in the pockets of his long black-cotton coat. What I noticed about his face in the bar was over-written; it was too shadowy in there to get a proper look at him. But now as the lights made way for my eyes to search him, I could finally see Edward Cullen for what he really was.

His skin was pale, almost icy in its color, and his hair was long and wavy at the top, and slightly shorter but messier on the sides. I hadn't noticed that he had faint side-burns either, as well as stubble on his upper lip. He was taller than I was too, and his jaw-line greatly defeated mine in terms of definition. His nose was straight and bridged perfectly into his forehead while his red lips stole my attention as they sat upon a plain of white skin. I gulped slightly, feeling inferior in my scrubs and surgical hat.

Neither of us said anything, despite me willing myself to do so, but luckily he took it upon himself to speak despite my apparent inability to.

"Jasper," he started, his voice deep and crackly. "Do you have a minute?"

I cleared my throat. "Erm yes, ugh, I guess I do."

He turned towards me a bit and lowered his voice, staring in the direction of my shoes as he spoke to me. He stopped before he even started, however, and apparently gathered his thoughts before staring again. "I, um, _shit_."

Was he nervous too?

He started again, third time lucky, and I waited patiently. "Jasper, I, ugh, I just wanted to say that I'm, ugh, sorry about, you know, everything."

Was this happening? Were my feelings of rejection premature? Maybe Emmett was right - I had completely jumped to conclusions.

I gulped again and took a deep breath, using that time to sort out the traffic of my thoughts. "It's fine, Edward, don't worry." I really didn't know why I was being so cold; in my head I wanted to burst out and scream for joy, but for some reason that didn't quite translate in the form of words or expression. It was like there was a self-defense mechanism at work, and I didn't want to get too close incase my hopes were dropped again.

"No," he mumbled under his breath, "No it's not. I should never have, _shit_." He stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose, and I admitted whole-heatedly to myself that he was cuter when he was stressed. A simple observation on my behalf. He continued on, "I should never have pushed you, and I should've thanked you sooner for saving my dad's life."

You know when something great happens and you think it's too good to be true, as if you're bound to wake up again? I had that now. I was just waiting for my alarm clock to go off, or for Bierce Fitch to jump on my lap and wake me up. But no such thing happened. I couldn't believe this was happening, and that I had let myself sweat over this; Emmett was so right all along. Although I didn't wish Edward to express appreciation for my operating on his dad, his doing so still went a long way.

Oh, and also, note to self: Listen to Emmett more. He doesn't speak _complete_ shit.

"Edward, really, it's my job. I'd do it again if I had to," I said with honest brows.

"No," he protested, "I know that, but I, ugh, this is different. It didn't have to be your job."

Erm, yes it did.

He clarified, "No, shit, I mean, you could've gotten someone else to do the surgery, but you didn't. And I, ugh, thank you."

I guess he had a point there. I didn't want anyone else to do the surgery anyway, so that wasn't truly an option in the first place. I took a deep breath after that. Irony worked in funny ways; I was mourning the loss of a potential friendship with Edward for two weeks now, and yet here he was, thanking me for something I would've done regardless of acknowledgement. My job was very unforgiving and my efforts were usually shadowed by the family's relief, meaning that it was rare I'd ever be thanked by a patient's family. In fact, I think only three people had ever thanked me for my efforts in my entire medical career. The first was Emmet when I wrapped up his broken arm at a baseball diamond a few years ago. The second was Julian's mother, who expressed her appreciation for me keeping her son company. And the third was Edward. So to be thanked by anyone was rare, and thus the last thing I expected was to be the recipient of Edward's gratitude. I would have sooner expected Pterodactyl and Bierce Fitch to move out and have children together.

"That means a lot Edward, thanks," I said shyly, taking off my surgical hat. He gave a faint closed-mouth smile, but kept his gaze mostly away from me. I could see that this was hard for him, so I thought I'd make it easier. "You know what?" I asked, "I never had a chance to prove to you that the people here in Seattle aren't all shallow." I smiled slightly and showed my teeth. I guess I had it easier because I was dealing with rejection whereas he'd been dealing with guilt. Rejection went away completely when the rejecter embraced you, but guilt wasn't necessarily the same; guilt could linger around, even in the face of forgiveness.

He smiled then, but seemed he felt guilty for doing so. "You've already proved it," he said, "but I accept anyway."

Excuse me while I hyperventilated.

"You wanna head to my place, get some pizza or something?" I asked, my face hopeful.

"Sure."

We both headed out the glass doors of St. Jay's Memorial Hospital of Seattle. I felt so free of burden and stress, like each step I took helped me to soar through the air. Things like this never happened to me; Edward coming to apologize and thank me was just overwhelming by so many standards. I couldn't believe that he was walking next to me, content in doing so, and I frankly couldn't get my brain around the fact he agreed to come chill at my place. I swore Emmet would've never have believed me, and Sofia would've probably asked me to record the night on video, so she could be in on everything that happened - not that anything would happen, but-

"Hey Jasper?" Edward asked, pulling me from my thoughts with his deep, husky voice. I turned to look at him with a smile before I noticed a confused expression befalling him. "What was that thing you shouted at me in Spanish?"

Great. Way to go Jasper. Way to go.


	7. Embrace The Craziness

Well hello again! Hope you're all having a relaxing holiday! I can't believe it's Christmas already?!

Aaaaaaanyway, the song used in this chapter is "Just Be" by Paloma Faith; please do check it out. I hope you enjoy this long chapter, too. I wanted this one to be my gift to all of you, so hurrah, here it is. Enjoy and please let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: The meaning of Jasper's Spanish will be revealed if I manage to not get sued.. or if Google somehow breaks down. Just Sayin'.

* * *

Edward told me that he'd make his own way to the pizza place, and he scurried off into the car-park to find his vehicle. I made my way to my Audi and immediately began blasting the radio, singing to whatever song came through the speakers while driving enthusiastically. I was so elated that things were finally working out with Edward and I that I didn't even care that the people in the car next to me were staring as I sang my way through the chorus of 'Hey Soul Sister' by Train. While the perky beat of that song uplifted me, I swayed musically in my seat at the thought of having Edward around. I'd have my new friend yet!

After the song ended, I pulled out of the parking space before thinking that I'd better call Emmett to tell him the good news about Edward and I. He witnessed, first-hand (no pun intended,) the state I was in after being rejected by Mr. Cullen so I predicted he'd be happy to know that things had finally worked out between us. I couldn't wait to hear what joke he'd come out with, because that would certainly make the reality of Edward and I hit me, and I couldn't wait for that to happen.

Because I was a surgeon who used his phone constantly, my car was set up by bluetooth so that I could talk and drive at the same time. Since I'd installed this work of genius, I'd become completely dependent on it for completing all my errands, as well as spewing any portable insults towards Emmett. I swear, where would I have been without technology? Other than being lost in boredom, I'd probably have an impounded license for texting and driving. And if you thought I was bad, then what would the next generation be like? I imagined they'd be born with Iphones instead of hands, or Ipads as faces. Even though that would be definitively useful to exploit, it would also devalue from Apple's sales of the devices. It would, wouldn't it? I honestly had no idea. This was the limit of my knowledge of economics.

Oops, I was getting side-tracked. It wasn't my fault! Edward made me a get a little esoteric with my thoughts. What was I doing? Ah yes, Emmet; I needed to phone him. I looked into my SatNav and said, "phone Norman Bates." I smiled widely as the robotic voice of my car replied, "Calling Emmet." Hah. My car was whipped. It was my bottom bitch, like most of the interns, and did whatever I wanted.

The man himself answered with a husky voice and it was clear that I'd woken him. That delighted me on so many levels, so I decided to wake him up a little more. It was a night to celebrate, after-all. "Emmett, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up," I repeated, eventually tripping on my words and slurring them. I heard a loud groan on the other side of the line and I heard him cry into his pillow with awoken pain.

"I hate you Jasper," he grunted, his voice crackly, before he muttered curse words under his breath. That brought warmth to my heart as I took a proud breath of air. "Love you too Emmet! Hey guess what?"

I didn't really know where to start, how to start, or when to start so I just waited for him to say something before I went on. My mind was dancing everywhere because of having a second shot at friendship with Edward and I felt sort of high on adrenaline and injudicious in sorting out my thoughts.

"What?" he asked, as expected. He didn't seem quite 'with it' just yet, but I was excited to make him as happy and energetic as I was.

I could hardly hold it back any longer. "I'm on my way to get pizza with Edward!" I announced, feeling my chest tighten. "He found me at the hospital and thanked me for operating on his Dad, can you believe it?"

There was a pause on the other end. "Oh. That's great, Jasper. Good for you."

Hmm. Maybe I didn't elaborate enough.

"And he apologized for not thanking me sooner too!"

I wasn't going to mention the part where Edward pushed me against a wall. Erm, Emmett didn't need to know _that_, because knowing him, he'd take it upon himself to teach Edward a lesson for it. I mean, I couldn't blame him either, he was pretty protective of me lately and I would've reacted the same had someone done that to him, but right now, I didn't want to create tensions in the family before Edward had even joined it.

I could hear silence on the other end and that sort of confused me. I thought Emmett would have been at least a little happy for me. "Why so quiet?" I asked.

"Nah, nothing. This is good, Jasper. I'm glad things have worked out for you."

_'Glad things have worked out for you?_' Was I his client now or something? I felt confused as to why his reply was seriously lacking.

"You don't sound too happy about it," I commented, shrugging my shoulders even though I was speaking on the phone. "I thought you'd be screaming some rude sex joke at me, not acting like you don't care."

"I do care," he responded, not adding anything else to that.

"Sounds like it," I huffed.

"Can I go back to sleep now?"

He didn't just-? Okay something was up. This wasn't like Emmett at all. I half expected him to invite himself to get pizza with Edward and I, not ask if he could go back to sleep. Other than being slightly offended by that, I worried that there was something going on with him.

"Is everything alright?" I asked warily.

"Yeah, fine," he intoned.

I was having enough of this game, so I broke the ice.

"Why does it sound like you're pissed off?" I asked.

He sighed. "I'm not pissed, J, it's just," he stopped and sighed again, ".. it's nothing. Forget I said anything."

"Emmett so help me God," I cursed, "tell me what's wrong."

He then sounded a little perkier, as if he had gathered his shit together before he said, "No really Jasper, I'm fine. Just have a good night and let me know if you need me, alright?"

I huffed and acquiesced. "Ugh. Fine. But are you sure nothing's up?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Have a good time."

I waited for the line to drop, rather apprehensively, and I stared at the screen of the SatNav for a bit before I realized I wasn't looking at the road. The indicator of the car ahead of me caused me to go into a mild trance and I started thinking about why Emmett had acted so strangely. Maybe some girl screwed him over? Or maybe he was just tired? I eschewed my concerns for the moment, with Edward on the forefront of my mind, and I took a breath.

Right then, my car/phone started ringing, denoting that Edward was now phoning me. I felt sorta popular.

"Haven't spoken to you in awhile," I joked, looking into my mirror as I took a left.

I heard a deep rumble on the other end and a slight chuckle. "You just drove past me, Jasper." He laughed again.

Heh, well this was embarrassing. I knew exactly where I was going, but the whole Emmett thing made me lose my sense of direction. Oops! If Edward was anything like Emmett then I'd never hear the end of this.

"Oh, right you are," I commented with a chuckle. "You had to pick the most awkward pizza place to get to."

"You were the one who wanted pizza," he reminded, his tone denoting a smile while my cheeks rose alongside my own. "Don't blame this one on me."

"We're even then," I said.

Edward laughed once more before hanging up and I had to hold back from bursting with excitement. I needed to remember these moments, the early moments, the moments I'd look back on twenty years from now, when Edward and I are still friends. Right, wishful thinking? Maybe. But as Emmett would say, _'sue me.'_

Speaking of whom, what was up with him? Emmett was usually very honest when there was something bothering him. He never held back and watched destruction happen in his silence. He'd say what he thought and that would be the end of it. So for him to with-hold something from me had me a little worried. I started thinking of all the things I could've done wrong until I stopped myself; I wanted to enjoy myself tonight. For the first time in a long time, I'd maybe treat myself to a night free of worries or concerns._ I know, I know,_ Jasper Whitlock and 'worries' were almost inextricable at this stage, but I thought that maybe having Edward around would be the knife to that knot. Who knew? Maybe having a brooder around would make my problems less complicated? I sometimes thought that my twistiness was what brought out Emmett's pragmatic, 'things aren't as bad as they seem' attitude. A person's traits often brought out my opposite ones. Maybe it was some fear of confrontation or competition, I have no idea. But all I did know was that I, in contrast to Emmett, made him seem a lot less complicated. I hoped this formula would apply to Edward and I too, except maybe I could be the Emmett. But just less stupid and dog-minded.

I turned into car-park for the pizza place before I got out and met Edward outside the door. He seemed to be looking around the area for someone else before he saw me, as he then gave me a smile and opened the door. Carlisle taught him well, it appeared. Except, well, maybe in the case of wall-pushing, but let's not dig up demons of the past. I spotted a table with two seats and plopped myself onto one of them, opening the plastic menu to draw my eyes across the fake pictures of the pizzas. Why did they bother making them look so phony? It wasn't as I was going to see the real thing thirty minutes later or anything.

Edward followed in my path and took the other chair, pushing the air out of himself as he sat down. He looked funny in such a dingy place. His black, cotton coat spoke of its own expense while his shiny leather shoes gleamed against the dim snooker lights that hung above us. But it wasn't as if I was sussing Edward out for his wallet or anything. In fact, I had a healthy relationship with money because I appreciated it, but also made sure it didn't define me. So I didn't care if Edward was rolling in cash, or searching every street corner for it. I was more-so thinking about how well he wore the clothes, rather than the fact he had the clothes. I probably should have been thinking about what I was going to order, not my lack of interest in Edward's finances, but sue me for being curious anyway.

I needed to get my act together because it was clear that my thoughts were all over the place. I counted back from five.

Deciding what I wanted moments later, I dropped the menu to the table and looked to Edward. He had the same face as when he was playing with that child-toy in the waiting room; where his brows were knitted and his nose shriveled to create a crease between his eyebrows. Emmett had a face like that too, but it looked more like a bulldog licking pee from a nettle. Right, too vivid? Sorry, I did warn you that I went to _'the place'_ too often; the _place_ where overly inappropriate jokes dwelled and screamed to be acknowledged. Sofia sometimes stopped for a coffee, and Emmett would sometimes have the occasional dinner there, but it was me who dabbled and rolled in this world at any time of the day. I loved these kinds of jokes, once they didn't apply to me. But when they did, I got a little uncomfortable. I didn't know why, so again, _'sue me.'_

This _getting my act together_ thing wasn't working out. At all.

"Decided on what you're getting?" I asked, now fidgeting with the corners of the menu as Edward looked from his to reply to me. He didn't seem very interested in the food at all, and it was clear there was something else on his mind. Maybe he didn't like pizza?

"Jasper," he started, sighing ominously and causing me to tense a little. Why did hearing my name freak me out so much? Since as early as 'Jasper, clean your room,' listening to someone call me by my name was unnerving. So for Edward to do it, was especially unsettling. He went on, "I had a list of things I wanted to say to you, but I can't remember them. I, ugh, I'm not great at doing this." His struggling was rather endearing, but it made me wince watching him. He didn't need to apologize again, and I told him that firmly. However, he didn't back down, and insisted on letting me know how sorry he was.

"No, it's easy to laugh about it now and shit, but I can't, erm, you know, ah shit," he cursed, wiping his face in self defeat. I tiled my head to view his shadowed eyes.

"Hey, hey," I called encouragingly, lowering my voice, "don't beat yourself up. And quit apologizing, you had every right to act as you did." _Except for when you unknowingly gave me a panic attack notwithstanding._

Edward deflated a little and tried to laugh at himself, even though he failed to rid his face of its troubled grimace. I couldn't help but think how much things had changed. From that innocent encounter in the bar that night, to this heartfelt apology two-weeks later, our circumstances had certainly made way for a great change between us. I knew Edward had been through a lot with almost losing his father and seeing his mother riddled with worry and so this must've been yet another problem that was on his mind. He must've had so much on his chest, and yet, he still took the time to find me, to make things right with me. He then took a deep breath.

"I'm not great with putting things to words," he remarked, staring straight ahead. Although I'd already gathered that much from his earlier apology, I wasn't going to kick him while he was down. I gave him a smile, but it failed to stop him from spilling himself to me. "It's just I, ugh, I'm going to say something, but I've never said this to anyone before."

I nodded slowly and my mind wandered to all the romantic things he could've said or done, but I eschewed them, with the word 'friend' crossing my mind.

"Okay.." he took a breath and shook his arms. "I've been feeling so fucking guilty after what I did to you, my dad, everyone. When I saw you before you pulled out the bar, I sorta realized how, umm, shit, how brave you were." He stopped, cleared his throat and gave me a half-smile. "Then I remembered back to what I did to you, how I'd pushed you against that wall.. and, fuck, Jasper, I've never felt so guilty over something in my life. I tried to forget it, but then I kept remembering it and so I, ugh, started thinking of all the things I wanted to apologize for, to thank you for. Starting with this."

I stared at him with an open-mouth, not quite registering that Edward had been thinking about me, what appeared to be as much as I had been thinking about him. Now I felt guilty for him feeling guilty. Shit, that's a whole lot of guilt. But maybe it was necessary. Maybe I needed to be rejected so that I could be hardened, and he needed to experience guilt, so that he could softened. Things worked in fucked up ways like that. And wait, did he just call me brave?

"Then when you told me my Dad was gonna be alright, I was waiting for a moment to say all this to you. Then you, ugh, walked away." He looked down, seeming ashamed and I literally had to hold myself back from hugging him.

Shit. Emmett was right.

"Edward," I gasped, slightly, "don't blame yourself for me walking away. If you want to know anything about me, it's that I can imagine stuff in my head and, as my friend puts it, can run away with it." I gave an apologetic smile.

"So what did you get into your head?" he asked, apparently out of curiosity.

"It was, um.." I then stopped, "no it's stupid." I laughed at myself and my shoulders curled in slightly.

"Jasper look at me right now, nothing you say could possibly be stupid," he stated.

Heh. He had a point there. But aside from that, he was cute when he tried to apologize. The way he stuttered over himself and corrected his choice of words was nothing short of heartwarming, and because it seemed rare that he could express himself through words, when he actually managed it, it meant a hell of a lot more. In fact, I remembered back to the time in the bar when I worried that I had intruded in his space and he unknowingly put me at ease by saying, "not that I minded bumping into you." It was things like that I wanted to hear from Edward; things that were a testament to the person he was when he was more comfortable around me.

"Fine," I acquiesced, looking down and folding the corners of the menu. He had been honest with me when he told me about how guilty he felt for what he did, so maybe I owed it to him to show him some candor too. I didn't need to reveal _every_ reason as to why he was on my mind, but I could tell him of one, and a true one at that. "Honestly, Edward, I walked because I just thought you didn't want to see me again."

Edward tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. My words seemed to somewhat concern him, and his eyes soon squinted as he thought about what I meant by that. I felt as if I needed to remind him of how I tended to think I was on bad terms with people, even when it was just in my head, as Emmett had enlightened me of.

"What made you think that?" he asked. _Erm, Jasper Whitlock made me think that, _I thought to myself, _That's what_. I was my own worst enemy sometimes. Sure, I was an optimist, but I was almost certain now that I was an optimist who was scared of optimism, and so opted for pessimism. Welcome to the craziness that is my psyche! I hope you enjoy your stay!

"I don't know," I sighed truthfully, stroking my chin, "I was stupid. I just saw your face and got it into my head that you didn't want to see me again." I stopped and breathed in. "I warned you I do stuff like this."

He didn't need to explain himself, even though he did anyway. He confirmed Emmett's insight of course, but apologized profusely for making me think he didn't want to see me again, and that I had read him entirely wrong. I was relieved, and completely flattered to learn this, and I felt my grip upon the picture of us _just_ being friends slip a little. I was beginning to want more, but I needed to stop myself. If I wanted to keep anything going with Edward, it would have to be a friendship. There was no point hoping for something that couldn't happen. Every gay guy had to face the harsh truth that was the existence of heterosexuality.

And God-dammit, had I not let my stupid insecurities control me, and had Edward not let his fears and temper influence him, none of this would have happened! Had we just been ourselves, we would never have had this rocky start to our friendship. But then again, it's easy to say "be yourself" when you know who "yourself" is, right? Because I wasn't completely certain of who I was or what I stood for, I found that phrase to be nothing more than cheap advise. But in theory, yes, had Edward and I been ourselves, none of this would have happened, but in reality, that's easier said than done. I'd remind you that I was still in exile from psychologists and gay-rights activists. By all means, be yourself! (whoever that may be.)

Edward was certainly the straight-up type. He didn't seem to like mind-games, nuances or hidden messages. Some people liked having people who were a little complicated in their lives, because it added some social depth to a night-out. But I seemed to be the opposite; Emmet, Sofia, and now Edward, were more of the 'things are the way they are' type, and these were the type of people I needed in my life. Another Jasper Whitlock in my life would seriously be the bane of my existence.

To honor Edward's ways, I decided that I needed to be upfront with him. Why were we even here together? We both clearly wanted something from each other, it was just a matter of one of us saying it. "Can I say something?" I asked, probably shyly. I always found it hard to look at people in the eyes when revealing something about myself to them, and this was no exception to that. "There aren't a whole lot of people who can say that they met under circumstances like these," I started, "what were the chances you'd walk through that door after Esme? There's a whole lot of people in this city."

Edward tilted his head, seemingly intrigued. "And?"

"And, well, this might sound sorta strange but.."

Screw my shyness. 'Be yourself, Jasper!' Yeah, I'm trying.

"Let's not end it here. Out of everyone, it was you who came through that door and if, well, that's not some sort of sign, then I don't know what is."

Edward half smiled. "What kind of sign?" he asked.

I shrugged. "That maybe we're meant to be friends. Maybe I'm superstitious, but I just feel that it was, and excuse the cliché I'm about to use, but, meant to be."

I was just about to mentally chide myself for phrasing that like something out of one of Sofia's cheesy Spanish soap operas, but Edward's reaction wasn't what I expected, and I had to double take on things. I had been straight-up with him, and he seemed to appreciate that, judging by the smile that tugged on the corners of his lips.

"You beat me to it," he said huskily, smiling slightly.

His face melted me a bit. I couldn't hold onto this friend-thing for much longer. It was wearing me thin, like butter spread over too much bread, and I could feel my restraints loosening. I wanted to leap over the table and kiss him there, but I couldn't do that, not if I wanted some sort of relationship with him at all, albeit a friendship only. I was so happy that he was on the same level as me and wanted to stay in touch that I started questioning what I had been worrying about in the first place. It was like I'd suffered my fears in vain, and I was so damn happy to be able to say that. Remember when I said that I often looked at people I didn't know and admired them as if they were faultless and everything I wasn't? I started to lose that perception of Edward, and not in a bad way, but more-so because I realized that we were on a similar level now. Sure, we both had faults, but I found his endearing. And I then realized I'd sort of come around in an arc because of that. I knew he had faults, but I liked him for them, so did that mean he was faultless after-all? Oh, well, I was back to step one. Did I welcome you to my strange psyche yet?

"But there's something else I need to say," Edward then said, twitching his nose. I saw him fight for the right words to use before he said, "I, ugh, I'm alone a lot."

Story of my life. I gave him an encouraging nod.

"Shit, Jasper, don't make me say this one too."

Because I was partial to his struggling-face, I cruelly acted naively to his pleas. He sighed and wiped his head, and I got to marvel at that face once again. Damn, Jasper, you need to calm down.

"I, ugh, I don't have a lot of people.. you know, around at the moment."

I looked around. I wasn't quite getting him. "Why are you telling me this?" I asked.

"Shit." He closed his eyes slightly and took a breath. "What I'm trying to say is that, ugh, this is all new to me." He then palmed his face with apparent regret for saying that.

My heart dropped a little for him, but I still wasn't one-hundred percent sure as to what he was saying. "What's new to you?" I asked.

Okay, so I was torturing him, but in all honesty, I was genuinely unsure about what he was talking about. Edward took another breath and pressed it out of him, unbuttoning his top button in apparent angst. Despite my eyes lingering on the V of his neck, he addressed me directly, pupils on me also. "You're killing me here," he said, tension-cuttingly as he loosened his collar. "Shit, if I use a soppy cliché, I never used a soppy cliché, you got me?"

I nodded slowly.

He cleared his throat. "I was going to ask you the same thing, y'know, about the friend thing, because I haven't had anyone to, ugh, call a friend in a long time. I'm not too sure how friends act anymore."

I couldn't kill the smile that painted itself across my face. Although I couldn't understand why Edward didn't have a whole line of people wanting to be his friend, I still felt great that the honor was somewhat exclusive to me. Even though I wasn't exactly someone with hundreds of confidants myself, I at least had my relationship with Emmett and Sofia to learn from, to ultimately guide Edward with.

"I'm humbled," I said, slightly mockingly, "that you'd choose me over all the _great_ people in this city."

"There aren't a lot of them in Seattle," he said, at a low - barely audible - level, "but I know them when I see them."

Tonight I learned that self-control was inherent in me. My hands clutched the sides of the chair as Edward's guarded sweetness undid me in more than one way. I was clinging to the word _friend_ by a hair, but yet I needed to grip tighter, otherwise I'd lose him to unrequited lust.

"Takes one to know one," I said, and Edward smiled somewhat shyly.

I was getting sick of admiring him beneath the dim pizza-joint lights, so I asked if he wanted to head back to my place for some drinks. I know, I know, I probably shouldn't have been drinking again, especially in light of what happened last time, but I wanted to celebrate, not because of seeing Edward again, but because he was now part of my family.

In fact, it was about time he met the other members of it.

* * *

I gave him directions to my house before we both left, taking our respective cars. I flicked on my radio and relaxed into my seat, waiting for a good song to come on. I wasn't about to listen to one of my sad, somber songs. Instead, I wanted to hear something that spoke of how great I felt. How _confident _I felt. Before, I had lost all hope that the friendship I'd aspired to have with Edward would work out. Its beginnings were doomed to fail in light of my complicated insecurities, as well as his bottled up anger. We were both sort of destructive in our differences, and when I walked away from him that night in the hospital, it was because these differences had driven us apart. Except now, there was someone toying with our conflicting traits because Edward had come back, and now we were friends. It still screwed with my head to say that.

Maybe had I listened to Emmett and not walked away that night, we would never have become estranged. Maybe my fear of rejection and his fear of loss was what drove us apart. In reality, had one of us just taken the reigns for ourselves, and had just been ourselves, then we wouldn't have become separated for so long. Yeah, yeah, I know, _'be yourself'_ Jasper; and although I still argue that that was cheap advise, it sort of hit me that 'being yourself' didn't mean being perfect, but being cool with the fucked up part of you too. Why couldn't the phrase just say that? "Embrace your craziness" was more accurate, if you ask me.

Funnily enough, as I pondered what it meant to be Jasper Whitlock, a song that I knew and liked finally came on the radio. I loved that feeling when you hear the intro to a song you warm to and your diaphragm sort of melts a little. It was a great feeling right? I had it right now, as "Just Be" by Paloma Faith filled my car with deep, torchy groans of a grand piano. It was usually at the end of an intro where I'd start singing along to the tune, but in this case, I remained quiet and took in the lyrics, the harmonious fluttering of the notes, the crackly breaks between the sung words, the images that blossomed in my head.

~ _Let's get old together._  
_Let's be unhappy forever._  
_Cause there's no one in this world_  
_That I'd rather be unhappy with.. ~_

You hear of friends growing up together, advancing through each stage of life, arm-in-arm. When things went wrong, they'd help each other, and when things went right, they'd marvel in it together. I had friends; Emmet and Sofia were irreplaceable and I cherished them with everything in me. But there was something about Edward; something about how we'd been tied together by a fate beyond odds that made our reconnection something remarkable. There were 300,000 people I could have met in the bar that night, and 300,000 people whose fathers could have ended up in that OR. But yet on both accounts, it was Edward.

Chance often deceived our _expectations_, didn't it? We spent our whole lives hoping that chance would give us what we wanted out of life, but it rarely did. There was no pattern to chance, there wasn't nothing _clear_ about chance. So we always lived life in the unknown. And humans have a fear of the unknown, I've noticed. But if there was anything I learned from this experience with Edward, it was that the unknown, chance, the lack of clarity.. none of them were worth fearing. Because yes, they could be what carry the cons of our futures, but they also shadowed the surprises of our lives; the surprises that changed us.

I was ready to face the unknown, the lack of clarity, the rare coming of expectations, with Edward. That was what friends did, right? They stayed with each other through the good and the bad, the easy and the hard. If I lived an unhappy life from here onwards, at least I'd live it with Sofia, Emmett, and of course, Edward, at my side.

~ Let's_ be exposed and unprotected._  
_Let's see one another when we're weak._  
_Let's go our separate ways, in the night_  
_like two moths_  
_But know that you're flying home to me.~_

The thing about Edward and I was that both of us knew far too well, how imperfect we were. We both seemed to wrap ourselves in a cloak, a pretense that hid who we were. Mine was to surround myself with work and convince myself that I had better things to be doing, when inside, the mundane and my lack of confidence were rotting me. Edward, on the other hand, protected himself by acting as if he was indifferent; as if nothing truly affected him, unless his anger showed its face. Together, in our problems, we alleviated them, and were raw, vulnerable to the social elements, but stronger in our unity. In our separation from each other, in our defiance of what I believed could've been considered fate, we were both clearly miserable. At least now, things were right, and we had flown home to each other, albeit in a friendly way. Yeah, so I could poetic when I wanted, and I would have been so more, had Irene and the OR not sapped that out of me.

_~ .."You wear me out with frustration and  
heartache and anger  
But we wait for the wave just to wash it away." ~_

I smiled. We had certainly broken each other down. Walking away from Edward that night was the hardest thing I'd ever done, but I thought, at the time, it was for the best. Shit, was I wrong. How didn't I see that we were tied together? I met Edward at a bar, and then met him again under the most unlikely of circumstances, in the largest city of the North-West United States. If that didn't mean something, then I didn't know what did. The enormity of our situation brought us back together. It was what washed the pain during the surgery, the bottled anger and the unbearable pressure, away.

_~ "Don't say nothin'_  
_Just sit next to me._  
_Don't say nothin'_

_... Just be, just be, just be." ~_

Emmett always told me that I needed to stop over thinking things, that I needed to sometimes just accept that things were the way they were. I always asked _why_ and would feel lost if I couldn't get an answer. Sometimes I needed to learn to just shut up and take a breath. The world wouldn't stop spinning if I was ignorant to some things. I mean, I didn't know _why_ I wanted to see Edward again, but you know what? I was okay with that. I was okay with not knowing, once it could just be my reality. I needed to stop searching for explanations and answers. I needed to have a little faith in the unknown, in the _un_clear. I needed to stop thinking about the _ifs_ and the _buts_ and just close my mouth and concentrate more on being true to myself. Oh well look at this, I was referring to that cheap cliché after-all. '_Be yourself Jasper!'_ my inner-voice said to me, before I settled into the lyrics once again and said, "embrace the craziness" to myself as a replacement form of self-advise.

~ "_Let's let go together._  
_Let us unfold one another._  
_And watch all the little things that_  
_once drew me to you.._

_.. Just be, just be, just be."_ ~

It was at this stage that I stopped the car outside my house and stared at my steering wheel for a few minutes.

When I stepped out, I noticed the orange glimmering sky-line of Seattle looking back at me with a familiar, dazzling glory, with its magnificent light lost upon the darkened, amber waters that reflected it. Last time I'd seen that view, it reminded me of how empty I felt, but things weren't dark anymore; I had proven that I could share myself, with someone other _than_ myself, and that there was more to me than just my work and the cycle of my life - that a future with Edward held more in store for me. And a future with Edward sounded pretty damn good. Shit, okay, so I was developing feelings for him. Shit. I promised myself I wouldn't, but damn, our circumstances were so rare, and I was getting attached to so much about him. In tragedy we had found each other, and in each other, I began to find myself, and I had so many reasons to feel this way for him.

Maybe I was fooling myself. Maybe chance and odds decorated Edward; maybe it was the concept of Edward I felt connected to. Fuck, what if I was like some corny, unbearable Shakespearean character who was more in-love with love itself, rather than with a person? I needed to relax and quit doubting myself. Right, remember Jasper, just quit looking for answers all the time. Just let things _be_. I was still learning, but goddamn this was hard. As hard as new friendship was for Edward, acceptance was equally, if not more-so, hard for me. I couldn't accept that I felt something for Edward without knowing why, but I _had_ to just accept it; I had to accept that some things were just beyond what I could know, beyond what 'yes' or 'no' could satisfy. Goddammit, I had feelings for Edward.

Shit. I had feelings for Edward.

And I had no idea what to make of that.

* * *

After taking a moment to gaze at his hypnotic jaw-line for a moment, we both ascended my apartment building. I noticed Edward was looking around a lot while we were outside, and for some reason kept blocking me as we entered the building. I probably should have questioned that, but I was teaching myself not to. On the way up, I started filling Edward in on the family, so that he'd have some names when he met the pets. He had already met Sofia and Emmett, but he didn't remember them too well so I kept things concentrated on Bierce Fitch and Pterodactyl, who he'd meet in a matter of minutes.

I was glad that it was late and so Emmett wouldn't be around. He was in a strange mood last I spoke to him, and I didn't want Edward's first proper impression of him to be that. We both just wanted to relax with some beer, as I had greatly anticipated, so on that basis, I was glad Sofia wasn't there to turn the thing into a dancing tequila boob-fest either. Besides, she was now sort of my competition for Edward. Not that she'd willingly go after him or anything, I'd be more concerned that it would be the other way around. And I didn't come this far with Edward, only to lose him to a woman. Sorry ladies.

I figured that he'd love Pterodactyl, as all guests did, because Edward was apparently partial to curse-words and thus already shared something in common with my beloved bird. If Ptero could mimic Edward's voice too, that would be great. Really, damn great. Oh, and as for Bierce Fitch - that relationship was yet to be seen. I guessed that he would accidentally step on her as most of us did. Poor Bierce Fitch, knowing her luck, Edward would be addicted to mayonnaise, and that would frankly be the rock she'd perish on.

When I opened the door, my lights were off again and I sighed. The last time that had happened, Emmett threw a failed surprise party for me before we stripped off our clothes and - ahem, yes, that. I worried that someone was hiding in the shadows, anticipating my arrival and waiting to shout,

"Surprise!"

No, no, no. Not again. Of all the moments! Suddenly Sofia, Emmett, Bierce Fitch and Pterodactyl emerged from the abyss with bottles of tequila, before Spanish music was blasted from the speakers of my music player. I really had had enough of the surprise parties and I turned to Edward and said,

"I had no idea. I'm sorry."

He looked at me as a dog would before getting neutered and I grinned apologetically. Sofia then danced in between us and grabbed my hands, leading me closer to the music. She manipulated my movements for me as I kept my eyes on Edward, and she pulled me different ways with the beat of the music. Then Emmett's attention turned to Edward and it was like watching a train wreck. The two alpha males eyed each other, daggers in the air, as I watched helplessly, unable to break free from Sofia's musical movements.

"You dance like my great grandmother Rosita Abrienda Chrissana and she's dead! Move with the music, Jasper!"

I swayed slightly as per her encouragements, but my eyes remained on the stare-off between Edward and Emmett.

"Why are you all here?" I asked into Sofia's ear, the music too loud.

She leaned into me, laughed, and said, "We wanted to meet Edward!"

How did she know I was with Edward? Something fishy was up here.

With that, I was pulled over to the target himself and was thrust into him by Sofia. I lost my footing and fell, but luckily he caught me in his arms. I didn't need to ask what this was about; Sofia was playing match-maker and although her intentions were genuine, this was not Edward's scene at all. Although I couldn't complain that his arms were around me.

The music came to a stop before Sofia appeared again with glasses of tequila, all of which Edward and I declined. I could have murdered my friends right then for intruding on us, but I had no stage to stand on, not with at least one of them being naive to being an annoyance. I thanked Edward for catching me and I brushed off my shirt, my gaze moving to the other alpha-male in the room.

My mind shot back to my conversation with Emmett and my eyes moved from him to Edward, to Sofia and back to him again. Suddenly, realization struck me like a chord. This was all Emmett's doing. I turned to him, unable to hide my irritation and pointed to the door and said, "Outside. Now."

He nodded and followed behind me and I closed the door behind us, not wanting either Sofia to realize what she'd been placed in the middle of, or Edward to know of what had happened between Emmett and I.

"Em, what is this?" I asked, my eyes probably wider than they felt. His lax demeanor annoyed me because we both knew what game he was playing, and he yawned as if nothing was happening. I snapped a little at that point and growled, "what game are you playing?"

"What game am _I_ playing?" he huffed, laughing humorlessly, "Dude, I'm stopping you from doing something stupid."

My mouth dropped. "Are you for real? You know who's in there right? _Edward_. The guy who's been on my mind for weeks now."

He huffed. "Yeah, I know exactly who's in there, and I thought you said you _weren't_ drooling over him?"

I didn't justify him with an answer to that because I didn't want to get into semantics with him. Why bother arguing over what I did and did not say? I stuck to the facts. "You knew I was with Edward, so you planned this little party.. to what? Come between us?" I felt my lip raise but I didn't care, I was so pissed and surprised at Emmett for acting so low. What was his problem?

"Bullseye, Jasper! You want a medal? I'm doing you a favor. He's nothing but trouble."

I was really fucking mad at this stage.

"He's my _friend_," I defended bitterly, my muscles in my jaw popping out before Emmett replied with an equally passionate yet unknowingly revealing,

"And so am I!"

I stopped right there and watched him, and he did the same to me. I realized all at once why he used Sofia to intrude on us. I mean, maybe I was wrong, but it sounded like he was jealous. As self-obsessed as that sounded, it made sense. If Emmett was going to be honest with me about his intentions, then I was going to be the same to him.

"Are you afraid Edward will come between us?"

He denied that outright at first, reminding me how I get notions into my head and 'run with them' but when I didn't appear convinced, he deflated and acquiesced.

"I don't want to lose you, J," he sighed, wiping his head. "I know his type; he's not good for you and I don't want to see you get hurt."

"Firstly, you don't know anything about him," I replied, my tone lower, "and secondly, I can decide what's good for me or not." I then changed how I was coming across, so that he knew I had calmed down a little. "And if you think I'm replacing you, then you're wrong there too, Em. I could never replace you, I just thought that went without saying."

He looked down, appearing a little undone by that before he rubbed his shoulder and looked back up at me.

"Thanks J," he said, before adding, "but I don't like him. I don't trust him, so don't expect me to lick his ass, alright?"

That was better than nothing.

I opened the door and signaled him inside, and we both entered while trying our best to seem unaffected by what had happened between us. I blamed myself for him feeling that way, so I really shouldn't have gotten angry at him. Since him and I got together two weeks ago, we had become closer friends as a result of it and were relatively inseparable outside of my working hours. He had become especially protective over me, too and constantly asked how I was getting on in work, lest I need him to have my back for whatever reason. I could understand his fears with having Edward around because I knew he didn't want to see me get hurt, especially after how close we'd become in light of that drunken night. He definitely seemed to think that I was trying to push him out by having Edward in my life, and yet that couldn't have been further from the truth. I would never have done that to him and it bothered me that I gave him that impression, as it had bothered Edward the same way in the case with me. It was sweet that he was looking out for me, but this wasn't the proper time, place or approach. He should have been more straight up, but I guess he had his reasons for not being.

I squeezed his shoulder to let him know that I wasn't angry at him anymore and he smiled at my gesture before looking at the ground. His hand moved up to replace where mine had been and he awkwardly pressed against the muscle. I moved over to Edward, who was being apprised of the wonders of Spanish culture by Sofia and sat in between them, ready to be the mediator between us all.

Despite Edward's tough exterior, Sofia managed to crack him a bit and had him laughing at her stories and jokes as she passionately told them. Emmett said good-bye and went home shortly after my conversation with him before Pterodactyl and Bierce Fitch retired to their respective sleep places also. When Sofia got progressively more shit-faced, I lead her into the same room she'd slept in after the night I met Edward and she snuggled into the blankets as if she had touched the surface of heaven. I knew that feeling oh too well.

When it was just Edward and I, we finally got to drink our beers alone and stayed up talking about the most miscellaneous topics. I learned that his favorite sport was ice-hockey, he played the piano and enjoyed Japanese food the best. I learned that his favorite alcohol was hard tequila (like Sofia) and that he preferred cities over mountains and country-sides. He told me that he was a sucker for city lights and I instantly thought about my song, "Fast Car" by Tracy Chapman, which I always played coming home from work at night when driving through the city. Finally, he mentioned that he knew all the secret coves and niches of Seattle and that if I ever wanted to see the 'true' city that I should take him up on the offer.

I learned a lot about Edward that night; a hell of a lot more than I mentioned. And I knew, as I unraveled a new aspect of him through more and more conversation, that I would be seeing a lot more of him in the time to come.

* * *

As predicted, Edward appeared more and more in my weeks and days. It started off with the occasional weekend drink, before that evolved into the weekly icy-hockey game and before I knew it, we were meeting up for some reason or another almost every day. Although it was selfish of me to say, I was glad that I was Edward's main friend. I didn't really want to share him with anyone else, because he was _my_ person, not somebody else's. But I guess that's how Emmett felt with me.

Edward and Sofia really hit it off too, and luckily for me, Sofia was conscious of not coming across as if she was attracted to him. She treated him as she treated me, and often made gay-jokes at him that were so subtle, that they usually went undetected. She had a way with words, I could say that much.

Edward still had his mysteries though, there was no denying that. He'd often check if the door was locked three or four times before he'd relax, and when out in public, he'd walk with his head down. Because I was getting better and better at not questioning everything and learning to just accept things, I didn't ask him about it. Because he was also subject to a milk-curdling temper at times, I didn't want to ask him lest I stress him out.

Finally, as for my attraction to Edward, it didn't get easier. In fact, it got harder. Each time he was close to me or when he'd look at me with those intensely green eyes, I'd have to clutch to the nearest object to stop myself from pressing my lips against his. One night, I accidentally pulled Bierce Fitch's fur to restrain myself and she has never sat on the sofa while Edward and I were there since. Her list of allies was growing thin.

I don't think Edward caught on to my attraction yet. He didn't make any outward signs indicative of his awareness, but I was hoping to ween him onto the concept of me being gay slowly. I didn't want him to think, or more accurately, know, that I wanted to go beyond a friendship; I didn't want him to be uncomfortable around me, not after how much time we'd spent together getting to know each other. So I thought that a slow and gradual injection of reality was better than saying, "Hey Edward, we're friends right? Good, because I'm gay!" Yeah, no thank you.

Last night, he sent me a picture of himself drinking a line of tequila shots while I was at work. That meant more to me than he knew because it was moments like that I really wanted to have with him. He trusted me, and knowing that, was a miracle for my confidence.

I owed Edward Cullen more than he knew. I owed him my confidence, my acceptance, my _clarity. _Everything made sense when I was around him, and although I had no idea why, I didn't really care in the slightest.


	8. What a Fine Imagination you Have, Jasper

Hope you're all healthy and happy over the holidays :-). Not a whole lot to say this time, other than a huge thank you, as always, to you great readers and reviewers. Please let me know how you're all finding the story. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Jasper will be forced to eat blowfish - twice - if I get sued. Just Sayin'.

* * *

"No way am I putting that in my mouth, Edward."

"Oh come on Jasper, don't be such a pussy. You don't know how great it is until you try it."

"Over my dead body will I swallow that. I'd choke on it!"

"You _won't_. Just try it and if you hate it, you never have to put it in your mouth again."

It was _clear_ that Edward enjoyed torturing me. We had been sitting at the same table in a Japanese restaurant for three hours now, with the same dish in front of me since the waiter last visited us ages ago. Edward ordered the most hardcore fish on the menu and had it consumed in minutes. He convinced me that I had to order the same thing, so there I was, sitting and peering down at the carcass of a blowfish, its oily eyes glaring up at me. I knew well that Edward wanted me to order it so that he could laugh at me each time I forced a piece down, and there is exactly where I drew the line. I would not force _any_ of that down if my life depended on it, because frankly, I was a) disgusted by its beastly persuasion, and b) partial to Mexican food. For three hours, Edward teased and bribed me to eat it, but the horrible thought of swallowing the meat of a fish that lived beneath dirty, musky sand had me feeling ill. The bastard across from me loved watching the horror on my face as he ate his own dish slowly and passionately, teasing me with ever bite he took. I looked at the prey on his plate and apologized to it for the massacre of its flesh. In minutes, it was nothing but bones. I had no idea how he had the stomach to eat it; and I was the one who was supposed to be accustomed to weird bodily smells and textures. Give me a human to sew shut any day, but put an open blowfish in front of me and watch me shriek like a schoolboy.

"C'mon, it'll melt in your mouth," said Edward, an evil smile across his face.

"That's exactly the problem," I responded, "I don't _want_ it to melt anywhere near my mouth."

Edward laughed. "It's great," he teased, "it's fishy, oily and has the perfect amount of scales to crunch on."

I had to hold my breath. "I can't Edward, I've put a lot of crazy things in my mouth but even I draw the line here."

Too revealing? My bad.

Edward didn't seem to notice as he chuckled, maintaining that devilish and mocking grin across his face. "It's a lot easier to swallow than the straight tequila you knocked back the night I met you."

Clearly the ghost of Emmett was teaching Edward how to use logic and experience against me. Bastard.

"Tequila tastes good," I said, "_this_ on the other hand.."

".. tastes better," continued Edward. "I'm surprised Jasper. I thought a guy with taste as good as yours would be willing to try this."

I shrugged. "As of now, taste isn't subjective. And that, my friend, tastes like shit."

"You haven't even tried it yet," he persuaded, futile in his attempts, "just try a piece."

_I'd rather have sex with a woman. _

The look I shot him ended his efforts, but I congratulated him for even getting me to order it. Edward was always trying to make me try the weirdest food. I had turned away the most weird and wonderful dishes you could imagine, all of which Edward ate teasingly in front of me, creating a train-wreck of a sight. As I said, Edward loved torturing me a little bit, mostly because he could get a rise out of me. And that was fine, I enjoyed being the object of his attention, but there was no way I was going to put that monstrous fish in my mouth. Edward could screw himself on that one.

These were the kinds of events that would happen in the middle of my day. I'd have an hour to kill during my break at work and Edward would, without fail, meet me to go somewhere. Often, we'd just sit back and watch the ice-hockey game or sometimes he'd drag me to the most disgraceful restaurants to torture me with excessively exotic food. There were times where we'd head back to mine, and others where we'd catch a movie. And on that topic, Edward and I were a little bit more similar in our movie tastes than Emmett and I were. Edward enjoyed crime movies, with molecular evidence and other forensic genres and although that was a step up from Emmett's plotless guns and explosions, it was still far from my particular tastes. Edward often teased me that I 'hated movies before I'd even seen them,' and it was Sofia who accused us of sounding like 'a bickering married couple.' I loved hearing that, but Edward got a little annoyed. Anyway, Edward and I spent almost every day together, doing something, or either nothing at all. I was cool with whichever.

I was learning to deal with Edward's temper too. There were times where I'd just have to back off completely and let him sort things out himself, and there were other times where I'd have to let myself be the bad guy. He always needed someone to blame and although that was a problem, I didn't mind it being me - most of the time. The fact he was comfortable enough to even get angry at me was what made me feel better when he'd explode. A lot of the time he'd get pissed with his parents and would come stay at mine for a few days, or other times 'the chick at the bar' wouldn't nail him and so he'd come to mine to cool off in his frustration. I hated it when he talked about girls, but I was becoming an expert at keeping a straight face when on the inside I was screaming at him. I preferred looking out for signs that suggested he wanted something more than a friendship and luckily for me, the fact he couldn't prove his experiences with 'the chick at the bar' made it a hell of a lot easier to keep my hopes up.

I was beginning to think that he was catching onto the truth of my sexuality also. He stopped asking me about girls or even expecting me to pass a comment about one. Not that he expected me to talk about guys, we weren't at that stage yet, but I think Edward was just comfortable in not knowing and that was cool with me - for now. I never heard him say anything particularly _against_ being gay but then again he wasn't exactly preaching gay rights either. Hah, nor was I - exile remember?

I often found myself thinking of Edward and I in a romantic sense, or even forgetting that he was straight entirely. I'd imagine what we'd be like together or how we'd live together. I knew that was an ideal, but a guy could dream, right? Emmett was right in that I still sort of 'ran' with ideas but in this case, it was in the context of Edward and I. I even bought a Valentine's day card for him when the date rolled around and I had to stop myself from giving it to him. I guess I was happier in not knowing either. At least the fact there was no confirmation of his straightness left that window open for me to think there was a possibility for something more. As I said, I kept my hopes up, despite supposed chicks and bars.

Bierce Fitch was delighted to know that I no longer needed to clutch onto the nearest object when Edward would do something sexy. I used to squeeze the armrests of chairs and press my nails into pillows, but now I found my inner zen and managed to find an inner resistance. Every day brought a new wave of change for me; I found that I wasn't consistently as nervous as I had been, and my ability to accept things for the way they were was nothing short of refined. Even Emmett complimented my 'less virginy' disposition. The biggest change was that I didn't feel like a vulnerable.. well, child, anymore. Even though I was an attending surgeon living on my own in an unfamiliar city, I still thought of myself as a walking mirror, ready to be shattered. Being around Edward made me not care about what others thought about me because when all else failed, I knew I could go back to him and everything would be alright. And let's face it, he was the same with me but only I could admit it.

Don't get me wrong though, I was still a worrier and a questioner and I found that when I wasn't around Edward, I would slip back into those ways. I just felt good when I was around him - attraction aside here for the moment.

The most difficult bowls to balance were Edward and Emmett. I mean honestly, they were like two territorial animals when together. And I was stuck in the middle of them. Emmett just flat-out did not like Edward because he apparently didn't 'trust' him. It was Emmett's attitude towards Edward that caused Edward not to like him back either. And because Sofia was oblivious to negativity of any form, I was usually left to mediate between the two of them. Emmett would pass remarks about the sometimes mysterious habits Edward retained, and Edward would make petty remarks about anything wrong he could highlight about Emmett. I think the fact they were both alpha-males was the main problem, but Emmett insisted that this wasn't the case and that he genuinely felt there was something 'up' with Edward. How ridiculous was that? I spent hours every day with Edward and yeah, he had his weird/mysterious habits, but didn't we all? Emmett wasn't exactly as pure as driven snow, I mean, some of his habits were beyond disgraceful; the crumpled pieces of undisposed of tissue papers across his apartment was what came to my mind - no pun intended.

But when the two boys weren't at each others' throats, I could get on with them just fine, most evidently when they were on their own. Emmett and I went back far enough to simply pick up where we left off but yet his protective tendencies that came to be after our encounter didn't let up. Edward and I got on like a house on fire when it was just the two of us, but when there was a third person (anyone other than Sofia) then he'd put up the walls I'd spent so long dismantling.

I also broke down and told Edward what I said when I came around the corner that night and spluttered some cheesy Spanish at him. What I said was, "careful precious! So many curves and me with no brakes." Yeah yeah yeah, get it out. Very funny. Sofia told it to me one night and its corniness caused it to be an inside jokes of ours. We'd say it publicly when meeting up together and all Spanish speakers in the vicinity would laugh at us. It filtered the men from the boys. Edward's reaction when I told him was as expected; he collapsed laughing at me when he learned the context of the phrase and to this day, he still says, 'careful precious, don't brake too fast,' whenever I turned a corner. The worst part was that he'd say it in English, so everybody around would think we were high on happy pills. Oh Edward, I loved it really.

As I glared down at the eyes of the blowfish, Sofia finally arrived late and plopped herself into the seat beside Edward, exhaling loudly after running through the notorious Seattle rain. She greeted us with an "Ay ay, God spits on this city!" before looking up and smiling. She passed an untimely gay joke at me, shrouded in subtlety while making sure it was guarded enough so that only I could detect it. Edward then asked why I didn't greet her with my wonderful Spanish phraseology and I promptly waved my knife at him in response.

Sofia looked down at the fish on my plate, gasped, gazed from Edward to me and shouted, "Por el diablo, ¿qué es eso!?" and then repeated, "By the devil, what is this!?" in English. I glared at Edward to explain to her why such a beast was plopped before me, but he gave me an evil wink before turning to Sofia and saying, "I have no idea. He insisted on ordering the most disgusting dish on the menu, just to creep everyone out."

And war had officially been declared. I turned to him with wide eyes, surprised at his deception before Sofia looked at me and asked why I'd eat something so disgusting. I stuttered at Edward but he simply shrugged as I wallowed in the pit of deception he'd left me in. "He made me order this," I said, trying to waive my responsibility for the oily pelt on my plate. "This was all him."

"I have no idea what he's talking about." Edward bit his lip guiltily and watched me with hooded eyes. I would seek revenge for this stunt. Sofia looked at me like I was an animal and said, "Ay, ay Jasper, is there something wrong in your _heeaad_? It looks like it was chewed up and spitted out again!"

Ugh. Great. Now I looked like some freak. Thanks Edward, appreciate that! If you weren't doing that cute guilty face at me I'd kick you in the knee right now. Even in the most guilty of expressions Edward managed to look attractive. It wasn't fair because I never saw him looking like shit. Ever. Even when he would say, "Shit, I look like shit," that was completely exclusive to his own opinion because at his worst, he still looked his best as far as I was concerned. And while he smirked and sniggered at me from the other side of the table, I couldn't do anything but laugh and admire him - his teeth, his pouted lip and his glassy green eyes.

There was no point defending myself here, so I took one for the team. "Taste it," I said to Sofia, glancing at Edward, "if you don't like it then you never have to put it in your mouth again." Edward chuckled silently and mouthed 'you've learned well' at me. However Sofia's balls were her saviors because she had no problem in calling over the waiter and shouting at him for serving such "poison" to his customers. Oh Sofia. If only she knew that blowfish was a delicacy in Japan and that we were not _his_ customers. The waiter practically fell over us with apologies before scurrying off and bringing back a new, more traditional tray of sushi, of which was apparently on the house. I swear, only Sofia would manage to storm late into a restaurant and receive a free meal simply because she didn't like the look of a different one - one she never even ordered.

She only ate a view pieces before Edward ate the rest in delight. We paid and left before Sofia and I had to separate from Edward to go back to work. He huffed when we reminded him of that. I told him to come back to mine tonight if he wasn't doing anything and he promptly agreed. Sofia gave him a massive smooch on the cheek and I could have sworn I saw him flinch a little. She then linked my arm and practically pulled me down the street and towards the hospital before I could even say goodbye to Edward.

* * *

"Well doctor, I don't really like this plan. You want to _cut open_ my wife?"

"Yes," I sighed, "this is the only way we can remove the tumors."

"So you want to take your big knife and slice my wife with it?"

Would it be so bad if I admitted that I laughed a little when he said that? Between Emmett and Edward my dirty mind would see no end. Not even in my work environment.

"Please Mr. Ramonski, your wife's stomach discomfort is not going to get better if she has these tumors. I need to do the invasive approach." We'd been arguing over this for almost two hours now, and still my words died in the face of his anger.

"Invasive approach my ass!" he growled, flaring his arms up in the air. Meanwhile I had nasty images in my mind.

"Please Ronald," his wife pleaded, "it has to be done. He has to enter me."

At that stage, I almost spat out laughing. Even counting backwards was failing me. I could see Edward's face laughing at me in my mind and I cursed him. He tortured me even when he wasn't in the same building. Ahh! I managed to press my cheeks towards my lips to hold back my smirk and luckily for me, Mr Ramonski was too busy telling me I was trying to kill his wife to notice my smile.

"No Lily, it doesn't have to be done. All these surgeons want to do is cut, cut, cut and I'm sick of it! Charlie's daughter has scars from head to toe after what those surgeons did to her."

Charlie's daughter must have had kinky surgeons. Kmmmmphmh, sorry. I could barely hold myself together. Ahem, right, no. This was sad, horrible! Very horrible indeed. Ahem.

"I assure you Mr," I said, "your wife is in great care, I won't let anything happen to her. The tumors are benign so the best thing to do is just remove them. I promise, it's a very common proced-"

"No! I won't have it. Come on Lily, we're going home." He turned and began unplugging his wife from the devices despite her struggling, and it was then that I opened my chart and turned around to him, exposing a sheet of paper that nullified his attempts. He didn't know that yet, though.

"Mr Ramonski," I addressed, holding the paper high, "your wife already signed the consent slip for the surgery." I looked over at her and nodded. "The last say is with her and she's already given her permission, so if you wouldn't mind.." I started plugging in the chords again only to have them whipped from my grasp.

"She don't know what she's signing. She's drugged by you people, how do you expect her to make any proper decisions in a state like this?" His loud voice was giving me a pounding headache and he had eroded my patience greatly. His wife seemed worn and she pulled gently on the back of her husband's shirt. "Please Ronald," she pleaded, "let me just have the surgery. You'll see me in an hour when it's over."

"You don't get it, do you?" he gasped. "You won't wake up, Lily! We're a retired couple. The government thinks of us as a burden. It suits them if you're dead."

Right. It appeared I needed to call the psyche ward.

Lily turned to me. "Please, let's just do the operation. I don't want this discomfort anymore."

I nodded as if her husband wasn't there because his say really didn't mean anything anyway and I clipped down the walls of her wheeled bed and began filling in my chart, prepping her for surgery. When I moved to slide her bed out of the room and to where the nurses would take care of her, I felt a tight grip upon my shoulder before I was shoved backwards into the nothingness behind me. My foot lodged itself under a chair and I toppled over myself and landed face first onto the hard icy floor beneath me. Then I tried to get up but my vision crashed below me before the dirty images, as well as Edward's mocking face, seeped out of my mind as the darkness replaced them.

I was really beginning to hate my job.

* * *

"Ay ay! He's waking up!" said a familiar voice as my eyelids flickered over my pupils. My head ached with pain as the light stung my eyes. I couldn't remember falling asleep, or why there'd be people in my bedroom so I lifted my head in curiosity to see that I was lying on a bed that was not my own, and was surrounded by a coterie of recognizable faces. My hazy vision wouldn't let me see who they were so I listened to what they were saying instead, hoping to learn more with my ears.

"We _know_ he's waking up. Hell, do you always have to state the obvious?" said a frantic male voice.

I heard a shove. "Te juro por Dios que te voy a cortar la polla y lo alimentan a usted!" shouted an even more frantic female voice.

Eh, what the hell was going on? Had I been dragged to a circus?

"Fuck, could you two stop talking over each other? You're like two fucking children!" said a raspy, torchy male voice.

Then the first voice and the female voice merged. "Shut up Edward!" said one of them.

"Look who's talking!" said the other.

Edward? What? I blinked to clear my sight but nothing was _clear_. Literally, this time.

"And Christ, did you have to bring _that_ thing?" said male voice number two.

"He'll make Jasper feel better - not that you'd know that," said male voice number one.

"Are you fucking slow? You can't bring those into hospitals. They carry disease," replied male voice number two.

I heard a snarl and a huff. "I could say the same about you."

Hah. Was this a dream? Because this was an awesome dream.

"Stop acting like two eediots!" said the female voice.

Wait ... Eediot? Spanish? Female? It started to dawn on me. Shit! Sofia? And, and Edward? Who was the third voice?

"This is _his_ fault this happened!" said male voice one. "He has Jasper all loved up that the guy can't even think straight. Now look what's happened!"

The apparent Edward didn't reply, but Sofia interjected in my absence. "_Emmett_!" she reprimanded.

Emmett? Edward? Sofia? Was this for real?

"I'll fucking break you," growled Edward.

"_Edward_!" she chided.

"I bet you've broken a lot of things!"

"_Emmett_!"

"You're about to join the list," growled Edward.

"_Edward_!"

"A list? Wow, that doesn't surprise me," snapped Emmett.

"_Emmett_!"

Then the cacophony expanded as a fourth, gravely voice joined in the commotion.

"Emmett likes cock! Emmett likes cock!" it called out, as the situation became realer and realer. Was that.. Pterodactyl?

"Shut that thing up!" said Emmett.

"It probably speaks the truth," Edward grunted bitterly, while I could hear a grumble emit from Emmett.

"Edwardita! Emmettita! Parrotita! Cállate!" shouted Sofia.

"Emmett likes cock! Emmett likes cock!"

"I swear to God, shut up!" Emmett shouted at Ptero. I could hear the bird squawk as hands met his feathers.

"He's just trying to drown out your noise," grumbled Edward.

"_Edward_!"

"Stop shouting our names!" Emmett reprimanded, before adding, "it's so annoying. Look! _Sofia_!"

"_Emmett_!" Sofia growled.

"_Sofia_!" Ptero cheered.

"_Parrot_!" Edward shouted.

"_Pterodactyl_!" Emmett corrected.

"_Emmett_!" Sofia called.

"_Sofia_!" Emmett snapped back.

"Emmett likes cock! Emmett likes cock!"

That was it. Something died in me. I couldn't take it.

"Shut the fuck up!" I shouted, causing all of them to shut their mouthes abruptly and look over at me with white faces. Emmett practically dropped Ptero to the floor and Sofia had to pull Edward back from rushing over to me. But I wasn't done yet. Far from it.

"Emmett, get the god-damn bird out of the hospital. Do you know how illegal that is? And Sofia, your Spanish is making me suicidal. Edward, if you speak to someone that way again, then so help me God." I saw each of their mouths drop but I didn't give a shit. I fell back onto the pillow and slung my arm over my eyes. I really didn't care if they all marched out and never spoke to me again. The pounding headache was all that dominated my mind and I frankly couldn't have cared less if I woke up to an apocalypse.

"Now look what you did," muttered Emmett, supposedly to Edward before I shot up again and yelled, "GET THE FUCK OUT." Okay, I felt a little bad for that one, but seriously, I needed to sleep and they were each killing me here. I could hear Emmett's glare at Edward before his stomping suggested his departure, while Ptero's "Emmett likes cock!" became a distant noise from down the hallway. I also heard Sofia whisper soothing words to Edward as his breathing was the loudest noise in the room. I could smell the anger rolling from him. I peeped my eyes open a little to see Sofia's hands on his face as he jaw muscles popped in every angle amidst his anger. I was the only one who knew how to deal with shit like this but Sofia seemed to have it under control.

And then something hit me.

She had it under control. Shit, her hands were on his face, her mouth inches from his as she whispered calming words to soothe his hazy anger. I watched in fear as he came back to himself while she seemed to quell his temper. Then realization made me feel even more ill as I was reminded that Edward was.. straight. Shit. Edward was straight. I mean, I technically knew that, but seeing the two of them like that.. fuck, it confirmed it. It was no longer 'some chick at the bar.' It was Sofia, and it was real. What was I thinking? Why did I bother thinking there was more between us? He was as straight as the bar in Carlisle's stomach and there wasn't a thing in hell I could do about it. Kudos Jasper, you've officially 'run away' with another idea. Edward was straight - why did I ignore that?

I turned around so that my back was to them. I didn't even care about my headache or the apparent bruise on my forehead, I just wanted to be alone. "Please," I then called out. "Leave me alone."

I heard footsteps approach me.

"I'm sorry Jasper," said Edward, "We didn't mean to be a pain in the ass."

"Yeah, well, you are, so just get out." I didn't want to look at them because I was hurting too badly, so I just closed my eyes.

"Jasper?" he reached forward and placed a hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged it off.

"Alone," I reiterated. "I want to be alone."

I heard a sigh, a pat on the back and then silence. I could hear breathing still and I knew that it was just Edward and I at this stage. I turned around to lie on my back. "I said alone," I muttered.

"I know what you said," he responded. "but I'm not leaving you."

I rolled my eyes. "There aren't any chairs, so you might as well go."

Without a word, he plopped himself onto the floor beside my bed and peeled off his jacket so that he was only in a T-shirt. I snarled and turned away. "I don't need a chair," he said. "All I need is somewhere to sit and I've found one."

"Just go home, Edward," I sighed.

"No."

"Why are you bothering?"

He stopped. "Because you're my friend."

If only he knew that that was the problem here. Who was I fooling? Why did I pretend there was more to this?

"So we've established," I said, defeated. Edward spread out on the floor, his arms and legs like a star as he relaxed into the flat, hard surface. He managed to make it look comfortable.

"I know you probably know this already, but," he took a breath, "you're my closest friend." He looked up at me slightly, even though I looked away, and he spoke with firm certainty. "You probably don't believe it, but that's the truth. You're the first person to know anything about me. Well, ugh, outside my family, that is." He stopped and took a breath while I warred with guilt and happiness. There was a sigh. "Just thought I'd tell you that."

With that, we both remained quiet. So maybe I was being petty. In fact, I _knew_ I was being petty. He had no idea I felt this way about him and because I learned to be as restrained as possible, despite the hope I had inside, he didn't seem to catch on to my attraction to him yet. Whatever about my attraction to men, he had no reason to think I'd be sweet on him at all. And yet this time months ago, had someone said 'Jasper, Edward will call you his closest friend in two months time' I would have jumped for joy. But now my _expectations_ had risen and now I sought more, even when I knew it wasn't possible.

Edward had come a long way since our meeting. Back in the pizza joint he couldn't even get the word 'friend' out of his mouth and now here he was, telling me I was his best friend, and yet I was now disappointed by that. Even though I was grateful that he appreciated me as much as I appreciated him, it was still saddening to know I'd been tricking myself the entire time. And as I used the racket he, Emmett and Sofia had caused as my reason for being angry, I felt frustrated that I had to keep up this act so that I could hide the truth from him. He was straight, and so my truth would break what we had - our friendship - and I didn't want to ruin that.

Shit, I didn't want to ruin that. But what was I doing? Ruining it.

I shoved myself to one side of the bed and turned over to Edward's spot on the floor. "Get up," I said, lifting my head from the pillow. Edward's face asked me if I was serious, so I then repeated myself.

"I'm not leaving Jasper. End of," he apprised.

"I never asked you to leave," I said factually. "I asked you to get up."

Tilting his head, Edward rose to his feet and watched me confusedly. I looked at him blankly, not letting myself feel anything. "You can't sit on the floor," I decided, only to hear him deny his departure once again. He was as stubborn as Irene on a good day, that was for sure.

I flicked over the corner of the sheets and threw a pillow away from me nonchalantly. "Lie here. But if you move too much, you go back to the floor, and if you ask me if I'm alright then I'll tell the nurses that I have no idea who you are and what you're doing in my bed."

Edward chuckled and brought a hand through his hair. "Aww, does Jasper care about my comfort?" he teased.

"No," I remarked, "I just don't want to step on you when I'm on my way out of here."

_Aka/yes. Yes I do. _

Edward laughed again and slung himself onto the other side of the bed. I turned away from him, somewhat pleased with my decreased destructive attitude before sleep claimed me once again. I'd be lying if I said I didn't like the idea of having Edward beside me, but I wouldn't let myself feel excited - there was no point. He was straight.

* * *

Surprisingly, Edward actually managed to fall asleep beside me. Because most of the nurses in the emergency department knew me, they gave me a larger bed to lay on. It was because of this did Edward and I both fit on it together. I lay down on my side, my shoulder pressing into the stiff mattress, while I watched my friend sleep. I had never seen Edward in such a vulnerable state before. The fact he even let his guard down enough to sleep beside me was a huge testament to his trust for me, and yet I had this trust in vain. As each day passed with Edward in my life, I realized more and more that I couldn't give him what he wanted. I couldn't _just_ be his friend. I didn't want to sit on the other side of the sofa to him while watching ice-hockey games. I wanted to be in his arms as we watched them instead. I didn't want him to verbally force me to eat overly exotic foods, I wanted him to feed them to me in a candle-lit restaurant. I didn't want to just know that he played the piano, I wanted to hear him play it - preferably it to me. If I could've just made myself be happy with what we had, then I would've done that in a flash, but I couldn't live this double life anymore; I wanted Edward in my life so badly, but yet as each day he played the wrong role - that of my best friend's - my acceptance of having _just_ a friendship with him began to crumble. I couldn't be his friend anymore, because frankly, _more_ was what I needed - not wanted, _needed_.

Emmett would tell me that I was hoping for an ideal, 'the gay guy who changed his straight friend's mind,' but how overdone was that? And yeah, to an extent that was exactly what I was hoping would happen, but it wasn't always like that. I thought I could live with being just friends, but as I found my eyes glued to Edward's moving lips, or felt my diaphragm shrivel as his jawline clenched, I realized that friendship was only a step, not a final destination. It could never be the final stop for Edward and I.

So what were my options? Leave? Tell him? Continue on as normal? I had no idea what I was going to do but all I knew was that seeing Sofia and him interacting like that, burst my bubble. Admittedly, it ruined the stupid vision I had in my mind, even though that was probably for the best. I just didn't want to let it go. Not yet, anyway.

I turned around on my other shoulder to look at Edward again in his sleep. His bottom lip was separated from his upper one and drooped down to show his teeth. His jawline remained dignified in its crunched position and of course, my eyes stayed on it. His chest inflated and deflated with every breath he took and I could see his muscles through his thin T-shirt expand and shrink again. His forearm was split by the shade of a muscle that ran through and below many brown hairs. Also, I noticed that he hadn't shaved in awhile because his dark brown stubble was beginning to break through around his chin and cheeks. I should have dropped hints to him to shave so that I'd gawk less at his face because I was partial to stubble.

I remembered back to when I first saw Edward, when I first saw those green eyes and that shadowed jaw, before a thought hit me. My mind cleared itself.

He was beautiful.

He was the most beautiful person I'd ever met, and in ways even beyond the physical. He was caring, protective and genuine, but also faulted, ill-tempered and rash. It was in his faults that I could admire his beauty; despite them, he was still the person I cared for, and that's what made him beautiful. You know what? Maybe he _was_ an ideal. Maybe I was perceiving him differently to everyone else. But at least he was _my_ ideal, and nobody could take that away from me.

I moved a little closer.

"Edward," I sighed, my voice a whisper as I leaned over him. "My God, do you have any idea-"

Not wanting him to wake up with me peering down at him, I fell back to my side of the bed, releasing a shaky breath while looking up at the ceiling. My headache had gone down considerably since I'd slept, so I got up prudently, not wishing to awaken him. And as I exited the room, my back to Edward, and went on a quick stroll through the halls to get my circulation going, I got a strange feeling that someone was watching me from behind.


	9. Bursting at the Seams

Happy 2013 to you all! I like to think that this chapter is lucky because it's the first one of the new year. Heh, and maybe it's lucky in other ways too.. you'll see what I mean.

As always, I want to thank you all for your encouragement, interest, reviews, subscriptions, you name it! I love that I've received comments both in English and French, so a big shout-out to all you French readers out there :). Je vous aime!

Aaaanyway, I'll shut up and let Jasper do the talking, right after a quick disclaimer: I'm still broke and not worth suing, so sue Jasper if you must.

Enjoy!

..(oh, and this chapter is almost 10,000 words long.. don't hate me.)

* * *

It went without saying that Lily and Ronald Ramonski were banned from the hospital after their little stunt that got me injured. The hospital was scared that I'd find some reason to sue, so the chief offered me a weeks 'recovery time' where I'd be paid regardless of my absence. The police asked me if I wanted to press charges, and although I was tempted to pursue that and piss off the idiot who gave me a concussion, I thought that his wife missing out on having a kick-ass surgeon like myself was punishment enough. Well, at least, Edward called me a kick-ass surgeon. I wasn't sure if that was true or not. They were his words, not mine.

But I gleefully accepted the week off from work and packed up the toiletries I stored in my locker, and trotted on to make my way home, where I could relax and screw around my apartment for a few hours. I was elated that I could feel normal for a _whole_ week! I could maybe even have a lie-in until 7 or 8am. Hmm, or maybe that was pushing it. I didn't want to become a _complete_ slob. Still though, I had a whole week to do whatever I wanted, without worrying that my buzzer would summon me to work at any second. I should've gotten concussions more often - they really worked to my benefit!

I sent a round of texts out to Edward, Sofia and Emmett to let them know of my untimely freedom, and I got two replies back. Edward's reply came almost instantly, so fast in fact that I thought it was a delivery report. It said, _"A week to force blow-fish down you again? Game on." _Oh Edward. I imagined if somebody else read that. What would they think we were talking about? I swore, my dirty mind and exile from psychiatrists would see no end. The mental health ward would probably have locked me up years ago had they known about the unnerving thoughts that crossed my mind on a regular basis. I was lucky that the general-surgery department was at the other side of the hospital, because maintaining my self-induced exile was hard enough as it was. And on the topic of exile, let us not disregard my hiding from the sisterhood of homosexuals, either; I had defied the rules of the gay-clan far too many times - most notably when I stabbed and murdered the 'Be Yourself' campaign. They wanted my head at this stage - and not the little one.

Sofia must have been at work because her reply came considerably later. It was long, detailed and burned my eyes a little bit. _"Ay, ay, Jasper Wheetlock is alive! I was about to drink the dia del morte tequila in your honor. Listen guapo, I'm afraid my new attending is demanding that I do this stupid surgery, so I will not be free until tomorrow morning. God have mercy! Bueno, when I get out, I'll be sure to get you very draaaahnk. Love always, Sofia."_

I cringed at the thought. A night of hard tequila, with a stomach filled with nothing but stale hospital food and unsweetened tea, sounded like a fate crueler than death. Besides, nights with Sofia consisted of long discussions about the different parts of the male anatomy; or else they'd end up with Sofia getting overly tipsy, falling into my apartment, and drunkly conversing with Pterodactyl while expanding on his dirty lexicon. Neither situations sounded all that appealing. I really enjoyed having Sofia's presence around though, there was no denying that, but after the incident in the hospital, I couldn't help but negatively associate her with Edward. I tried to not be bitter about the whole scenario, because if I had to lose Edward to someone, I would've chosen Sofia anyway, but I couldn't help feel a little deceived regardless of that. Sofia had always made an unsaid effort to make Edward her friend, and nothing more. But now, she had taken a different stance, and things were now different. And although that was a hard pill to swallow - the fact I'd eventually have to share Edward with someone - I told myself that Sofia was being realistic, where I was not. I tried to be happy for the relationship they were bound to have, but of course, that was easier said than done.

Acceptance was never my strong point.

I couldn't give Edward the friendship he wanted, and I wasn't sure where that left me. I guess I was somewhere between wanting to walk away entirely, and just breaking down and telling him everything. I wouldn't be able to stomach watching him cuddle up to Sofia, but I would also be utterly incapable of throwing my hands up and walking away completely. I'd remain in Limbo for the time being.

I got no reply from Emmett.

Since two out of three people were apparently unavailable at this time, I texted Edward back to ask if he was free. He said that he agreed to help his Dad walk for the first time since the surgery and that he couldn't leave the house. Before I could feel as if I'd wasted one of my seven precious days without seeing one of my friends, I got a follow-up text from Edward, asking me over anyway. I had never been in his house before, nor his work place, nor his car, nor anything else for that matter, because we always met up in public places or my apartment. He always said that he lived outside the city and that his house was a nuisance to get to, but as his 'closest friend,' I thought it strange that I'd never been there at least once.

But that was soon to change.

I replied to Edward in the positive, and he said to come over whenever I wanted. He gave me directions and I saved them onto my phone. With that, I headed home and blasted 'Fast Car' by Tracy Chapman the entire way. While stopped at a light, the family in the car next to me started staring as if I was on fire. Pfft! Had they never sang in their cars before? You'd think I was committing genocide or something by the way they looked at me. Oh, Whatever. I didn't care. I was going to see Edward.

Speaking of which, Edward happened to be very heavy on my mind as I drove. Saying his name to myself did strange things to me; It gave me a pit in my stomach, but it also made me feel as if nothing else mattered. I smirked as I thought of how he enjoyed torturing me, and I full on chuckled as I thought of how he made me look like such a fool in the Japanese restaurant. I then remembered how I shouted at him in the hospital, before my mind went to dwell on how he slept in the same bed as me. I thought of how his chest expanded against his shirt and how I saw the ripples of his abs and the the bulges of his pecs. My mind flicked to imagine the light stubble that scruffed his cheeks and that hard, dominant bone that gave his jaw its angular squareness.

I thought of things that only my imagination could provide imagery with, and I suddenly found it difficult to keep my foot on the pedal. I thought of Edward's strong calves pressing against me as we embraced, and I thought of the hair on his chest and the paleness of his skin gleaming before me. His red, apple-bitten lips and how they framed his sharp, jagged teeth pressed into the fore-front of my mind, and I could hardly see the road anymore.

I drew the air out of myself.

My hands went through his hair and my fingers scraped the whiteness of his skin. My lips brushed against his, and he buckled against me. He bit my earlobe and I nipped his neck, before he pulled my belt from my waist and dropped it to the floor. Then, we were bare; I was bare, vulnerable, raw, but willing to be so all the same.

I couldn't think about anything else. I would've told myself to concentrate on the road, but when I glanced down and saw the bulge in my jeans, I cursed indignantly. My jeans were tight and I was apparently unequipped to deal with erections. I gasped with pain as my cock strained against the denim fabric, and my stomach tensed with uncomfortable agony.

I dared the speed of my car to get me home faster, and I admittedly broke the speed limit a few times out of sheer desperation. When I got to my complex, I carried my bag of things in front of me - for obvious reasons - while I got out of the car. I usually took the stairs to my floor, but since movement of any kind felt like a mini castration, I was forced to take the elevator. And figures it would be me who'd end up stuck in the middle of a group of old ladies while having a raging hard on. The sight of them almost made me soft, but as Edward, his lips, his body and his hair crossed my mind, I was straining and gasping again.

"Are you alright deary?" one of them asked as I transmuted into a babbling tomato of excuses. I must have given her six different reasons for my redness and expression of pain. She aptly gave me two paracetamols and wished me better. Thank God she lived at the top floor. If I ever needed another reason to take the stairs over the elevator, this was it. I pushed the paracetamols into my pocket, nodded, and got off at my floor. My bag was still pressed firmly against my groin.

As the door closed, I heard one of the deaf old ladies say, "nice boy.. Not very discreet though." The others started giggling naughtily and crudely slapping each others' shoulders with devilish chuckles. I frankly wanted the floor the swallow me. Gathering the shattered pieces of my shame, I waddled to my room and whipped out my keys.

As always, I had to fiddle with them before I could find the right one. Just as I got it into the lock, the door beside me creaked open, and Emmett was then standing there, right beside me, with an elated look on his face.

"Jasper!" he greeted, slapping my shoulder as I cringed. "You're back! I got your text, sorry I didn't respond. I was busy with Ptero and Bierce Fitch.. wanna hear what happened?"

I was about to cut him off so that I could escape into my room, but he continued on without my consent.

"So Ptero was eating his food, normal right? Yeah, I thought so too, but then Bierce Fitch came over and.."

His words died at my ears as the pain from my undying boner shot through me. I visibly shook and I was pretty sure the veins in my neck popped out a little.

"Emmett, this isn't a great time.."

".. then Ptero was like, "no bitch, stay back. This is my food!" I was egging him on because I wanted to see them have a boxing match, but then I forgot Ptero doesn't even have fists, so that was kinda out.."

Another wave of pain shot into my groin and I dropped the bag to the floor, my arms limb. Emmett innocently noticed and bent down to pick it up for me.

"Emmett, no, I'll get it!" I pleaded, about to reach down myself. However he beat me to it and started gathering all my belongings that fell out.

"You're such a clumsy tool. So yeah, it was funny. I wish you were there to see it. Bierce Fitch finally stood up for herself, I couldn't believe - Whoa! Jasper what the-?"

As his pupils bled with shock and horror, my hands immediately came to conceal my secret. He was kneeling in front of me, his eyes leveled with my crotch, and my bag tangled in his arms as he looked up me in confusion. I watched him, blinking irregularly, while his face said a million words. He seemed scarred for life.

"Can I _please_ go into my room now?" I begged.

He stuttered and cleared his throat. "Ugh, be my, ugh, guest?"

"Thanks." I turned my shoulder to him and marched in, but not before turning around again. "Emmett," I addressed.

He broke from an apparent trance and looked at me, his eyes dilated. "Ugh, yeah?" he asked.

"This never happened."

I shut the door in his face and dropped my bag to my feet, conscientiously this time. I immediately threw myself onto the sofa. Bierce Fitch came purring around the corner of the couch and I threatened her with a "mayonnaise." She squealed and scurried off, apparently as scarred as Emmett was. Ptero started acting up by shouting "masturbation is good for you!" and in order to finally have the silence I needed, I took off my shirt and threw it at his cage. The bastard got the hint.

Finally.

I placed a hand under my head and brought the other one to trail down my chest. I pretended it was Edward's, my skin was his skin and the light blonde hairs on my chest were suddenly those of his own. When the pain from below shot me again, I unclipped the button of my jeans and set Jasper Jr free. My hand moved back up to my chest and my fingers traced the lines of my abs - but they weren't my own. They felt like Edward's; they were Edward's.

I pinched my nipple and grunted loudly. Jasper Jr was screaming to be touched but I ignored him for the time being. I wanted this to last. My nails scratched down my chest and my breathing quickened. As my cock started throbbing, I coalesced and gripped it, stroking down slowly. I almost yelped at this stage but the pillow I then placed over my mouth muffled my groans.

I pulled slowly on myself, much to Jasper Jr's chagrin, and then brought my hand to touch the head. The sensitivity made me jump and I smirked lustfully. My chest started to tighten as I quickened my pace. Up and down, down and up, up and down. I could've listed the medical terminology for the process of an ejaculation, but the only thing in my mind was Edward, or more specifically, certain parts of Edward.

I imagined my hand was his, gripping me, pulling me and squeezing me, while I squirmed beneath him. I licked my lips and moved faster, feeling every muscle in my chest pop out. I couldn't inhibit another groan. I was groaning so loudly now that the pillow was becoming redundant.

"Edward," I gasped.

My hand skimmed past the head once more and I suddenly jerked upwards. I was getting closer, and closer, before a wave of pleasure surfed through me, and I came ferociously onto my fist and chest. My throat released one last guttural groan of which most likely gave my activities away to Emmett next door.

Edward. Edward didn't seep from my mind as my chest relaxed. I could feel a distant connection to him - a bridge of feelings as I began to catch my breath, but the injection of reality reminded me that these feelings were unrequited. I bit my lip.

"Edward," I said again. I said his name over and over but I couldn't get any warmth from it. I felt as if I was yearning for something I could never have, like a young girl wishing she could live in her doll-house. This was all in my head and beyond the realms of reality, I knew that, but I ached for him anyway. My feelings for Edward demanded something more, but they also prevented me from walking away. I felt as I did when I first met him - fearful of rejection, but yet overly addicted to it all-the-same. I was in Limbo. I was _trapped_ in Limbo.

I looked at the clock and decided that I'd better get ready to see Edward, rather than continue fantasizing about him. Seeing him always made me feel better, so in a sense, I was still looking forward to seeing him. I stepped in the shower and washed away my imaginary sex life.

* * *

"I was beginning to think you weren't going to come," Edward said as I pulled up in my car, feeling a tad stressed.

"Well I was about to turn back around," I huffed, "your house is ridiculously hard to find."

"It's all the trees," he noted with a smile, "we're hidden here."

"God help your postman," I joked.

Edward chuckled and stepped to the side and I could finally see the house he lived in. It was an Alaskan style, two story forest home, secluded from the city's affairs, but close enough to not be completely isolated either. Edward's greeting was denoted by a smile and an arm around my shoulders. I smiled shyly at him before I was guided inside.

The halls reflected the exterior. There was a moose-head mounted above the fire place and the walls were styled with horizontal, ascending logs. The house was larger on the inside than it seemed. I smiled as I realized that it smelled like a slight variation of Edward. It was his scent, but mixed with those of others' too. Oh yes! His parents. I'd completely forgot.

Edward called to his mother and father and within minutes, a small, scrawny woman with long brown hair and piercing blue eyes came pacing into the room, pushing a wheel-chair with a familiar face seated in it. Carlisle's angular jaw struck me immediately and I knew then that this was where Edward got it from. His father had a charming disposition, and a consistent cheeky expression illustrated by the ever-so-slight curvature of his lips. It was clear that he had strong mandibular muscles that connected firmly to his masseter bones and created an ideal square jaw. He also had a tight Orbicularis Oculi muscle because his slim, defined nose was not overshadowed by loose, aging epigastric fibres. But I was stating the obvious here. Everybody knew that.

Esme looked completely different since I last saw her. The only image of her that I had in my mind was that of the tearful, crooked woman who yearned for her family to return back to normal. Her frame was so petite that she seemed utterly breakable, but I was obviously wrong there; if she had been helping her husband with his psyhio therapy, then she was by no means a weak woman. Now, it was like she was an entirely different person. Her hair was done, fluffily flowing over each shoulder and her lips were dark red, darker than Edward's peachy-red counterparts.

Carlisle almost levitated from his chair to greet me, and Esme had to gently push him back into his seat. As I took a step closer to the couple, I noticed that Edward remained at my side. Every time I looked at him, he feigned a neutral expression, but when he thought I was looking away, I'd see him mouth, 'don't embarrass me' to his parents. The cuteness of the situation almost turned my insides into jelly.

"Well if it isn't Dr. Whitlock himself!" declared Carlisle, forcing against Esme hands as she kept him from leaping up. "It's been awhile!"

"It most certainly has," I replied, thinking back to those times when I hid from Carlisle's nurse who continually summoned me to his ward - to no avail, I might add. "How have you been? How is your physio going?"

"Now, now," he chided mockingly, "this isn't the time to be a doctor. Just sit down, relax and make yourself at home."

"Well not _completely_ at home," Edward joked, nudging me, "that's just asking for trouble."

I had no idea what he meant by that, so I just shrugged and smiled at his parents.

"It's great to see you too, Esme," I said, before I was suddenly embraced in a hug by two thin arms. Edward had to pull his mother off of me, lest she 'embarrassed' him, but the only person who was embarrassing Edward, was Edward. For some reason he was all high-strung and on edge, continually monitoring his parent's actions lest they embarrassed him. He whispered "sorry about that" into my ear and I slapped his shoulder, signaling my disapproval for his apology. He was acting like a sixteen year old from a 'Home Alone' movie, and he needed to chill the fuck out.

"Come to the kitchen. Can we get you something to drink? Beer? Wine? Edward tells me you drink tequila."

"Dad!" Edward moaned.

Carlisle gave me a smirk. "What?" he asked, feigning naivety. "What did I say?"

Edward growled under his breath while I laughed alongside his father. Cullen Sr was getting a kick out of Edward's strange mood, and it was funny in a 'Jasper & The Cullens vs. Edward' sort of way. I liked how they could make fun of him in front of me, because it made the atmosphere a lot lighter.

"I'll have what you're having," I said to Edward's father, hoping that he wasn't like his son and partial to hard liquor. Edward looked at me like I was crazy before quietly whispering, "you know he drinks home brewed whiskey?" to me. I smiled awkwardly and then added, "you know what? Water'd be great, thanks."

Carlisle gave me a wink. "A wise choice."

Esme then pushed him into the kitchen, and Edward and I followed in suit. Whatever Esme was cooking in the oven smelled fantastic, but I didn't want to be rude and insist on knowing what it was. But when she informed me that I was staying for dinner whether I "liked it or not," I swiftly asked what was to be served - after thanking them both profusely. When Esme told me that she was cooking baked blowfish, I glanced at Edward in fear, and he was purple with inhibited laughter.

Then, Esme gently slapped my arm. "Don't be silly! I don't want to kill you. It's just a roast chicken."

My eyes shot back to Edward, who could no longer hold back his laughter and spat out in a single eruption. "Scared you though, right?" he cackled.

"He told me if I played along, he'd do the dishes for a week," Esme apprised, throwing the sponge at Edward. "You'd better make friends with that thing, Edward."

"Worth it," he breathed, while I eye-stabbed him. He was such a bastard.

When Esme went to check on the chicken, and Carlisle rolled himself into the living room, I was left alone with Edward, standing in front of the junction between the hall and the kitchen. For some reason we were both silent, with the distant clash of cutlery the only noise among us. I then turned to him and said, "I like your family," with a cheeky smirk across my face. Edward, in turn, punched my arm and chided me for being sarcastic. "I'm dead serious!" I assured, my hands in the air, "they're really great. I like them a lot." Edward then smiled and surprisingly placed a hand on my shoulder. "I'm glad you like them," he said. "I was worried they'd make me look like an idiot."

"They didn't need to try," I quipped, sending him another wink. He slid his hand from me, cleared his throat, and ambled into the kitchen to help his Mom. I was about to follow him over when I heard Carlisle shout my name from the living room. I flinched at first because he shouldn't have been shouting - not with the scars still raw - but I slid through the door and met his call without complaint.

"Come help an old man stand up for the first time in weeks," he said, looking over his shoulder. "What better person than a surgeon to help me?"

I laughed to myself as he referred to himself as an 'old man'. By modern standards, he was still quite young. Wasn't fifty the new thirty nowadays?

I nodded and walked over to face him. "Are you sure you feel up to it?" I asked. "It's only been two months since the accident. The scars will still be fresh and subject to tearing, and any excessive friction at all could lead to-"

"Jasper," he interrupted, smiling. "I'm fine. Help me up."

I sighed. "Sure."

We needed to do this slowly. Whether Carlisle wanted to hear it or not, the scars were still tearable, and his punctured abdominal muscles were barely mended, if at all. People tended to underestimate how important the abdominal muscles were. Other than giving people, like Edward, _ahem_, nice abs, they were detrimental to our ability to stand up straight and and walk upright. With that in mind, I wasn't about to rush Carlisle through his first steps, even despite the fact he was eager and enthusiastic to get out of that chair.

I placed my hands on his forearms and kneeled down to his level. "As slow as possible," I advised, while he nodded. I had a gut feeling that he had no intentions of doing this at a slow pace. If he had his way, he'd leap to his feet and run the New York marathon. Hah, but not while I was around. Maybe he was lucky to have a surgeon help him stand up for the first time, but he was unlucky that that surgeon was me. I was a perfectionist and wasn't about to let him destroy two months of painful physio therapy for the sake of five minutes on his feet.

Carlisle nodded and placed his feet against the floor and gently pressed onto them. He slowly began to levitate from a sitting position, to a standing one, while I kept his arms pressed against the arm-rest of his wheel-chair. His whole body began to vibrate as dormant muscles were called into action, and his forearms beneath my hands began to wobble weakly. I knew that feeling from my experiences with the gym; you know when you'd use a dumbbell for too long and your arms would begin to shake? No? Me either. I read it in a magazine.

As his skin began to crisp amidst the unsaid pain, I was just about to call it quits when Carlisle lost his footing and stumbled forward. He fell into me with a heavy exhalation as I braced myself to endure his weight. I somehow managed to keep him upright as he panted, holding onto me for dear life. I began to lower him back to the chair before he flinched in pain and I stopped, giving him a moment to gather himself.

"You were right," he panted, forcing a painful smile. "I was too fast."

"Now I know where Edward gets his stubbornness from," I quipped, feeling Carlisle shake again, but this time with laughter. A quick silence befell us as Edward's father caught his breath, before he collected the strength to lower himself onto the chair without much aid on my behalf. His feelings for the wheel-chair were now completely altered, and he plopped himself down with a sigh of relief, before looking back up at me, his expression verging on serious.

"I haven't thanked you," he said, his face summoning my attention.

I cocked my head. "I was doing my job, Carlisle, you have no reason to thank me."

"No, no," he corrected, breathily waving his left hand dismissively, "not for the surgery, I mean, for everything you've done for Edward."

I cocked my head again, this time to the left. "For Edward?" I asked. "I haven't done anything."

"You've done more than you know," he apprised. "He's fond you, you know. You know this, right? Edward hasn't had it easy these past few years - such little trust for anyone.. but then you came around and he.. changed. You know that, right? Edward changed. Because of you."

Utterly taken aback, I kneeled to his level and brought my voice to a whisper. "I'm fond of him as well," I admitted, looking down. "And for what it's worth, I think he changed me more than I changed him."

Carlisle's serious expression turned into a nostalgic smile as he looked at me hopefully. His smile was evanescent, however, as it was soon replaced by a frown, an expression of worry and concern. He seemed to focus on one place for a moment, before he took a breath and spoke. "Has Edward told you about what happened?" he asked. "About his situation?"

Having no idea what he was talking about, I was about to bring myself to say "no," when I was interrupted by a familiar, husky voice.

"Dad, Jasper, dinner's ready!" Edward called, peeping his head from around the corner suddenly and causing Carlisle and I to almost jump out of our skin. He noticed the heavy ambience, and being Edward, he made no calms about commenting on it. "What're you two whispering about?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, "you look suspicious."

I learned that I was a shit liar. "Me? Suspicious? Whispering? No!" I blabbed, before explaining how, as a surgeon, I naturally spoke on a quieter level due to my training in absolute discretion, until Carlisle patted my back in defeat. I was a hopeless case.

"What are you hiding, Jasper?" Edward asked, his eyes pinning me. Much to my luck, Carlisle came to save me. "I'm afraid that's my fault," he said, feigning a guilty expression, "I was asking Jasper if he could prescribe me some tablets I could use to.. show your mother how grateful I am for her."

My mouth almost dropped and I couldn't quite decide whether I wanted to laugh, cry or break out in goosebumps. It took Edward a moment to realize what _tablets_ his father was referring to, but when it hit him, he went bright red and brought a hand to his mouth.

"This is as bad as taking out baby photos," he muttered to himself. "Jasper, I'm sorry.. He's just.. Fuck, this is embarrassing."

I grinned as Carlisle winked at me. "It's okay Edward," I consoled. "It's really no big deal. I've used those tablets at times too so it's nothing to go red about. I'm a surgeon, bodily things don't bother me, remember?"

Edward seemed confused, and his nose shriveled up as his eyebrow went awry. "Wait?" he asked, his eyes raising as he pondered an apparent question, "you have problems getting-? Ugh, you know what? Forget I asked. Dinner's ready." He took a deep breath and muttered "fucking freaks" under his breath. Carlisle gave me a thankful pat on the back as Edward exited before us.

"Thanks," I said, sighing with relief.

"No worries, but maybe we can finish this conversation later?"

"Sure," I said, eager to know what this 'situation' was. "I'm all ears."

I wheeled Mr Cullen into the kitchen, where our eyes feasted upon a plump roasted chicken in the middle of the table. Esme had set out wine glasses, well, three wine glasses at least, while the fourth was a wide, stubby glass filled with some 'water of life,' or in other words, whiskey. The table was candle-lit and decorated by a royal red table cloth. I thought it strange that there were only two chairs around the table. And I questioned whether I'd heard Esme correctly; I _was_ invited to dinner after all, right?

Esme then ambled to the table and removed the whiskey glass and a wine glass. She disappeared for a moment, to what sounded like to a room upstairs, and then came back with a very disingenuous look of regret splattered across her face.

"I'm sorry boys, but I just got a very important call that Carlisle and I should return.. together. Why don't you two start without us?"

"Can't it wait?" Carlisle asked with agitation. Esme shot him a knowing look and he groveled back over himself and cleared his throat. "Oh yes, a call, yes, _that_ call. Of course, yes, of course, mmphm, let's go." They both disappeared into the domestic abyss, but not before Esme shouted out where we'd find everything we may have needed. I looked at Edward, who was making his restrained-smirking face before I asked, "erm, do they want us to wait?"

"No," he replied definitively, "You heard her - she said to go on without them. And I'm fucking starving so I'll take her up on that."

Only Edward could curse in the same sentence while referring to his mother and not sounding like a complete brute in doing so. He was lucky his suaveness saved his sailor's tongue, or perhaps more lucky that I found everything about him so perfect. Whichever it was, he got away with murder when I was around.

I eyed him suspiciously but sat down nonetheless, slightly apprehensive at the notion of an en route prank. I had become accustomed to Emmett's ways so much, to the point that whenever anything arbitrary happened, I immediately sought out signs for a trap. It wasn't as if Edward was as all pure, his torturous ways had me a bit wary. I was just waiting to be slapped in the face with a blowfish.

I sat in the chair on the far side of the table and Edward took the one facing me. There were two candles pillaring between us, and the flame from atop gently illuminated Edward's angular features with a soft, orange hue. The red wine made his lips significantly darker, and as a result, his teeth appeared whiter. The ambience exhaled its serenity and I found that I was more relaxed than I had been in.. in, well, years.

My eyes dropped to Edward's chest. He was wearing a charcoal shirt, buttoned at the wrists by two silver cuffs. Between his pecs, was a long, slim black tie of which ended just at his belt-line. When I looked down at my own attire, which was considerably more casual, a thought crossed my mind and I then realized something.

"You planned this," I said, not sure whether that was a question or a statement. I wasn't really sure what was going on at all really, I mean, why would he plan a dinner for just me and him?

Edward sighed and smiled shyly. He even reddened a little. "You got me," he exclaimed with a nervous chuckle, his jagged teeth now stained with a light shade of red. I tilted my head in confusion and knitted my brows. So this _was_ for just me and him? I found that the rug had been pulled out from beneath me.

My apparent silence was enough to make him doubt himself, and then he swiped the bottle, his glass and the plate and gasped, "you're right, this was a stupid idea. Shit, I, ugh, sorry, I, I just thought you'd, ugh, fuck." He began to gather a collection of pieces into his arms as he ascended from the table. "What the hell's wrong with me? Goddamn it, shit, Jasper, you see, I-"

"Edward," I breathed, watching him from behind the flickering flame. "sit down."

Without word nor question, he lowered back down to his seat and placed all the bottles, plates and glasses back down. I moved the candle to the side slightly so that I could view him without obscurity before I sipped some wine from the edge of the glass. Edward remained quiet, apparently unsure where we stood, until I spoke.

"This was really.. sweet, Edward, thanks," I said, my smile mimicking the shyness of his. Edward's eyes opened wide and his lip raised slightly.

"It is? Oh, that's good, I mean, that's good?"

I chuckled endearingly. "Really good."

I had to stop myself from 'running with' another notion. I needed to be clear now. No more assumptions. No more predictions. I wanted answers. I sought to clear everything up once and for all. A question crossed my mind and I decided to just ask it, even though it was based on one of these notions I was trying _not_ to 'run' with. "Did you invite Sofia?" I asked, my eyes squinting.

Edward's stare was absent. "Sofia?" he asked, blinking. "Why would I invite Sofia? I can call her if you'd like, but I sorta thought this was, you know, for two." He seemed almost agitated, worn, by my question, but I tried not to take any notice.

"Wait," I mused, concentrating on a single spot on the table. "You're _not_ with Sofia?"

Edward looked at me as if I was joking, so I asked again, gently, and conscious of sound as if I was prying. He heard me the first time, but still took a few moments to gather a response. "What would make you think I was with _her_?" he asked, undoubtedly taken aback.

I suddenly felt very, very stupid. The gospel according to Emmett was right once again - I had completely 'run away' with another notion, and made something exist where it did not.

"It's just.. in the hospital.. you were angry and she.. her hands.. she calmed you down.."

"So?" he responded, rubbing his stubble in frustration. "She was just being a friend and helping me calm down after what _he_ said to me."

I cocked my head. I was pretty sure I heard everything that Emmett said to Edward, and yes, the words spewed were spiteful, but they weren't anything beyond high-school mud-slinging. I ventured further. "What else did he say to you?" I asked. In retrospect, I _did_ think it was sort of over-reactive of Edward to get so angry over such trivial insults - especially insults coming from Emmett.

"It's nothing, just something he whispered to me," he responded. "I don't want to ruin the night by repeating it. It just got me fucking pissed.. as well as a lot of other things. Anyway," he attempted to move on to a different topic, but I kept him on point, wishing to know the behind-the-scenes destruction Emmett had caused.

"It's okay," I assured. "Just tell me, I'd rather know what he said."

Edward's expression dropped and he cleared his throat. "Really, I don't want to-"

My face was a sufficient response, and Edward coalesced to it. I noticed his jaw clenching a little as he spoke, and I had to brace myself.

"He whispered something to me, after you woke up and told us to shut up," he started, clutching to the armrest. "His exact words were, "you should just give up now, man. Jasper's with me."

For a moment, I thought he was joking. But when I realized he was completely serious, my mouth dropped. I couldn't describe the anger that then boiled inside of me; I wished I'd ripped off that bastard's cock when I had the chance. Edward soothed me as best he could, but the irritation - my response to the deceit - harbored in my mind, and became subject to a hidden snowball effect. I didn't even know how I'd react when I saw him, but I knew it wouldn't be pretty.

I then looked back up at Edward, "I'm sorry, Edward," I sighed, wiping my head, "you must've been so confused. I promise I'll break him when I see him - you can help, if you want."

He laughed. "Not worth it. And don't be sorry, I mean, I was pissed at you, and him, for a solid thirty seconds, until Sofia whispered something that made it better. She's fucking great with words. Anyway, I realized something when she spoke, and then I calmed down. Well, at you anyway. I still wanted to break that little shit's head in two."

"What did she say?" I asked, my brain in agony.

Edward smiled nostalgically. "It wasn't anything huge, but for some reason, it worked. She just said, "Edward, that was meant to be." I didn't understand her - y'know, the accent - but after the fifth time I got it. I dunno why it helped, but it just did. I was so fucking mad, and the way I had no idea _why_, made it even worse. Fuck, when I think about it, when I put all the shit with Emmett's attitude aside, I was jealous. Jasper, I was so fucking jealous."

Jealous? I was so confused, none of this was clear and nothing made sense. How could he feel jealous over Emmett and I? My stomach dropped as I realized that Edward must've thought I was _with_ Emmett, and as a result, would have less time to spend with him - as I had presumed would be the case with him and Sofia. This was all so messed up, and I didn't know how to make it right. I didn't want him to feel that way. I never wanted him to feel that way.

"Edward," I breathed, shakiness in my tone, "I promise, there is nothing going on between Emmett and I. I mean, a few months ago, we-" I stopped and slurped some more wine, unwilling to finish that sentence. "I don't know why he'd say that. It's not true, none of it." I wasn't lying because none of what he said _was_ true at all. Edward should not 'give up now' and more to the point, I certainly was not 'with' Emmett.

"I guessed as much," Edward pressed out, looking humbled by his confession. "I thought he might have been telling the truth, but then I presumed he was just screwing with me."

"That's exactly what he was doing," I sighed, wiping my head. I could feel the seeds of a headache sprout in my forehead, and I ran my fingers across my eyes to induce a brief moment of darkness. "If there's anything you should learn about Emmett, it's that he thinks of things like they're black or white. There's no grey areas with him, it just is, or it isn't. I'm not gonna lie to you, Edward, he doesn't like you - but you already knew that.." I stopped as Edward huffed in agreement, "..and I think he's just worried he's going to lose me as a friend, to you. He saw you as a threat and did what he thought was best to root you out. Don't take any notice."

I felt I had sufficiently refuted the question of homosexuality surrounding me. The sisterhood would see me dead, but in my defense, it _was_ my place to mention my sexuality to Edward - not Emmett's.

Edward was silent for a moment, before he frowned slightly and shriveled his nose. "Sounds like you know him well," he remarked. I worried that he was hiding his jealousy, as I had hidden mine, but I decided not to comment. I knew Edward, and if I had learned anything about him at all, it was that he hated when someone tried to relate to him.

"I do," I said, falling back into the silence. I quietly sipped some wine from my glass, as Edward began to contemplate solemnly to himself. I swirled the wine around, a movement that reflected the rate of my thoughts, before I glanced up at Edward once again. We sat in silence for another five minutes, before it became unbearable and I decided to step up to the plate. "You went to a lot of work," I started, as my eyes gazed upon the untouched meals in the center of the table. "I'm glad that you still wanted to do this.. despite everything."

Edward shrugged and bit one side of his lip. It looked as if he was about to say something, but I beat him to it. "But if you did this because you're worried Emmett's going to come between us, then just know that'll never happen. You're a good friend, Edward, one of my best, actually."

With that, Edward jumped to his feet with an exasperated sigh and began circling the room, his hand drawn across his forehead. I took a double take and thought over everything I'd said; it seemed as if I'd offended him, but I couldn't think of a moment when I had done so. I watched in confusion as I saw frustration and stress imbue his features, before he turned to me and groused, "That's it, come with me."

I was suddenly pulled to a standing position and then tugged through the halls and out the front door. I had no idea what was happening, or what was wrong, or where I was going, and I couldn't anchor my mind. I was launched into the currents of the unknown, with only Carlisle's words circling my mind: "Has Edward told you about what happened? About his situation?"

Fear filled me as I was dragged along the path from the door and tossed into the passenger seat of the car. I didn't know what to think, or who to call, or whether I was in danger or not. Shit, I didn't even know which car I was in. I had never even been in Edward's car before. I considered phoning someone - even Emmett crossed my mind - but when Edward started the car, his face heavy and burdened with anger, my movements halted, and my mouth sewed shut.

Suddenly the front of Edward's house became a free-way, and we were weaving through traffic and jolting past the city lights. Orange, yellow and the occasional blue imprinted on my face from outside, while the Seattleitean buildings projected a vibrant rouge upon Edward's profile. I didn't know what to say, and I found myself thinking back to the wine we had been drinking. I didn't remember him drinking that much of it, in fact, his glass was still full when I last noticed. So what was the problem? What had I said? Fuck!

"Edward, what the hell are you doing?" I gasped, wiping my eyes.

"Sorting things out," he shouted, his eyes on the road. "I need to get things straight."

"Get what straight?" I bellowed. "Edward, you're freaking me out."

The last time I had seen his face imbued with such fury was when he pinned me up against the wall, all those months ago. There was a physical demon within Edward, and apparently, something I said had elevated it from dormancy. And here I was again, at its terrible mercy. The emerald in eyes didn't seem beautiful anymore, but creased my skin whenever he shot a glance my way. He grumbled under his breath as he stared piercingly at the road. I only caught a few words, but the lack of context behind them confused me further.

"Dad was wrong. Fuck, I should've known."

Carlisle? What did he have to do with anything? Did I do something to piss him off too?

"Edward, tell me what's going on," I begged, feeling my phone in my pocket. "Where are you taking me?"

"I don't understand," he growled, supposedly to himself, "why hasn't it worked?"

"Why hasn't what worked?" My voice was cracking.

"_Me_, Jasper!" he groaned. "Why haven't _I_ worked? I thought I was doing it right?"

"Doing _what_ right?"

"_Everything_!"

The car came to a sudden halt as the brakes crunched against the gravel. My heart stopped in my chest and my shoulders almost touched my ears, before only our loud, thick breathing heard between us. My mouth opened and I slowly turned to look at him. He was panting, wide-eyed, with his knuckles whitened against the steering-wheel. His bottom lip drooped as he gazed out the front window. Relief elevated me from fear, and I turned my head slightly.

"Edward?" I sniffed, finding that a tear had escaped my right eye. It was the first time I'd ever shed a tear since Carlisle's surgery, and it felt as if I was holding back a dam. Edward slowly turned to me, his chest heaving.

"I don't know why I feel this way, what you're doing to me.." he stopped and clenched his eyes closed. The round muscles in his jaw, and the way he clenched them, told me that this was something he'd been dealing with for a long time. "You mess with my head, Jasper."

"Mess with your head? Edward, what're you talking about?" I pleaded.

"You don't get it?" he laughed bitterly, tensing against the steering wheel again. "I went out to restaurants with you, I hung out in your apartment with you, I told you I was jealous when Emmett said you were his.. Fuck, Jasper, I even slept in the same _bed_ as you!"

My mouth dropped. I couldn't muster up anything to say, but I didn't have to. Edward needed to say more.

"You never made a move. You made me doubt myself. You made me wonder if I was imagining things. I even asked my Dad for _advise_. He told me what I had to do to hint to you.. to hint _everything_ to you."

"Hint _what_ to me?" I asked. I didn't mean to sound frustrated, but I came across as such.

"Jesus Christ," he growled. "Goddamn it Jasper, I'm not your fucking friend. Don't you get it? I'm more than that. _We're_ more than that. I've felt this way about you from the moment I met you, but you never hinted back." His hands came to palm his eyes in a way that spoke of the long hours and days he'd spent in agony, apparently going over and over this in his head. "I've never felt this way before - about anyone - never-mind a guy. Do you know how fucking scary this is for me? The least you could've done was say something.. show me that you were or weren't the same!"

A thousand bricks. On My head. All at once.

"Edward, I-"

"Don't Edward me!" he shouted. "I did everything to try and tell you that I felt for you, Jasper. Everything. I was doing it all right, but you _still_ called me 'one of your best friends.' Do friends have two-on-two dinners with each other.. with candles? fucking _candles_?" He stopped and growled in frustration. "Of course they don't! You never got the hints - not a single one of them.. you even asked me if I was with Sofia. I just don't understand you!"

"_You_ said I was your closest friend back at the hospital," I reminded, the only thing I knew was the absolute truth.

"I was trying to make you feel comfortable," he bellowed, anger flowing off of him. "But all you did was watch me sleep and ask me if I had_ 'any idea._' I mean, what the fuck does that mean?"

I thought back to that moment, that moment when my foundations almost crumbled beneath me and I could barely maintain the 'friend' pretense with Edward anymore. I was too fearful to tell him how I felt, and that was the only way I could do it - while he was sleeping. If only I knew what I knew now.

I noticed Edward's nails digging into the palms of his hands while he spoke. He took a puff of air, presumably to calm himself, but it failed to work. I could smell his frustration, and it was a long time coming.

"I've never been like this over someone.." he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't know what's happened to me, but it's something you've done. You've got this fucking hold on me, and I can't break it. Believe me, I tried to, but I couldn't; I never thought I'd be like this with another dude, but I am, and I'm trying to deal with it. But you wouldn't give me anything to work with. I thought this was all in my head, and maybe it is, so I need to know.. I need to know now. Is this all in my head?" His breathing was harsh and his words were blunt. Edward had never done this before; he was a bottle with a full capacity, bursting at the seams.

If only he knew how many sleepless nights I'd had because of him. If only he knew how I was too worried about scaring him away with my sexuality, and had I just admitted to who I was from the beginning, that he wouldn't have gone through this torture. Fuck, I'd always thought he was the one who tortured me - I had no idea how wrong I was. The whips were in my hands, and I was so ashamed by that.

"Edward," I breathed, my eyes meeting his infuriated emerald irises, "it's not in your head."

"Then _why_ didn't you say something? _Do_ something? Let me know in some way so I wasn't driving myself crazy?"

"I was scared," I admitted, my gaze dropping alongside my diaphragm. "I was scared you wouldn't want to be around me if you knew I was gay." I felt like a coward.

"Scared? Because you were gay?" he asked, an eyebrow lifting. "What kind of bigot do you take me for? I wouldn't be like that, even if I _did_ think of you as just a friend." He stopped and sighed. "I'll never get you Jasper. The things that go on in your head.. I'll never understand. But fuck it, I don't need to. I've told you everything." He took an effectively soothing breath of air.

"Edward," I started, biting my lips. "Can I say something?"

He nodded, but didn't look at me. I raked my lip against my front teeth. "If it's any consolation.. I was going crazy over you too. I just presumed you were straight and that I was imagining something more." I stopped and huffed acerbically. "I thought a friendship was better than nothing.. but goddamn it, if only I knew. I'm sorry, Edward, I - I had no idea. I just wish I could tell you with words how much I feel for you." I cursed myself bitterly. All this time, amidst the obscurity, and the sporadic phases of clarity, I had been eroding Edward slowly and slowly. I took all his hints and signs to be friendly gestures, and now I felt utterly stupid, naive, and _blind_ to the obvious.

"Then don't," he sighed, watching me as if he had given up entirely. "Fuck, just show me in actions."

I didn't need a further prompt. I reached for his face, his white, pale, angry face and pressed my lips against it with every fiber of strength I had left. My heart was in my throat, but also on my sleeve, as I pushed against the swollen lips that dominated my dreams for almost two straight months. Edward grunted huskily and placed a firm hand on my cheek, so concretely so, as if he was going to lose me. His grunts were animalistic as my hands surfed through his thick brown hair, before they moved down his chest and swerved under his black shirt. I finally felt his chest, after months of imagining, and it was as solid and hard as I'd anticipated. There was a light gruffle of hair across his stomach, which I noticed as I slid my hands up to cup his pecs. I poured everything into him, all the worries, the insecurities, the apprehension.. everything that he made me feel over these last months, I engraved into that kiss, this first kiss, which was why nothing had ever felt so right.

We broke away for air and I dropped my head into the niche between his shoulder and neck. Panting, with my hands up his shirt, Edward cupped my cheek and tilted my head against his. I had never been so happy to see green eyes in my entire life.

"Finally," he breathed, looking into my eyes.

I smiled and kissed his lips. "Finally."


	10. Crash Landing

Another week, another chapter! I hope you're all well. Apologies for the late update! I've been very busy over this past week (and will be until February :( ) but have no fear, because I'll still make time to send out as many chapters as I can.

I still haven't managed to find a beta, so the search continues. If there's anyone out there who might be interested, please don't hesitate to PM me - I'd love to have you as my trusted side-kick and ruler of the world of Morphine.. Riiight, that sounds a bit underworldie. Nonetheless, I'll be waiting, whoever you may be! :-).

As always, a huge thank you to all of you who are reading/reviewing and subscribing. I love getting FF emails (I've VIP'd them on my account, lol) so please know that I do read them, take them into account, and greatly appreciate them. So again, thank you!

Disclaimer: If I get sued, Jasper and Edward will never get to 2nd base.

That'll be all for today. Enjoy!

* * *

"Did I show you well enough?" I asked, my head back between Edward's neck and shoulder. "Does it make sense now?" Edward's shoulder vibrated from a small chuckle and he turned to rest his cheek against my head. "Nothing ever makes sense with you, but yeah, you got your point across," he said, smiling. I pulled my hands out from under his shirt and brought one of them to rest against the side of his neck, before he added, "Thanks Jasper." I ascended my head before I'd barely put it down, brought my eyes to his, and kept my hand where it was. "For what?" I asked.

"For not giving up on me," he responded wistfully, his eyes moving from my gaze. I couldn't understand why anyone in their right mind would ever give up on Edward, but I guessed that this insecurity may have had something to do with the 'situation' Carlisle had mentioned. I didn't want to pry, despite the curiosity that swam within my mind, so I smiled, nodded, then moved back to my place between his shoulder and neck. "If anyone has given up on you, Edward," I said quietly, "then they never deserved you."

My face was subsequently pulled out of its niche and pressed against Edward's face. My lips touched a soft surface and did so for a solid thirty seconds, before I realized that I was being kissed again. It was a bad sign that the kissing experience didn't immediately register with me; it _had_ been a long time, after-all, and I was still getting used to things. I guess Edward and I were on the same boat in that sense. However instinct took to the reigns, and my lips were swerving between Edward's before I could even say, 'my life is now complete.' He broke from me with a gasp and a smile, his jagged teeth separating his flesh-swollen lips. His smile brought out my own, and I grinned somewhat confidently.

"Showing me with actions, yeah?" I questioned lightly, chuckling. Edward smirked cheekily and kissed me again. "Just making up for two months worth of Jasper," he remarked. At first, I laughed, both at his words and my naivety, before an unexpected spike of guilt struck my gut. I frowned slightly, and returned to Edward's 'niche,' as I had now christened it. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner. Had I known, Edward, I swear-"

"It's all right," he said, bringing my face from the niche and pecking my mouth. "It all worked out in the end."

He was so right there. He was right about a lot of things, but I also realized that I'd been right about a lot of things too. Okay, okay, I was wrong about a hell of a lot more, I agree with that, but I _was_ right about one thing: I couldn't give Edward the friendship he wanted. I was _never_ able to give him the friendship he wanted. Instead, I was going to give him a hell of a lot _more_. I was going to watch ice-hockey games with him, rather than opposite him, and I was finally going to be the recipient of the lyrics he'd sing at the piano. I was going to be what I never thought was possible - I was going to be _with_ Edward. It sounded like a dream to say that. The person I'd thought about so many times, and who I'd allowed to haunt my thoughts and mind, even down to the last second before I passed out, was now in front of me, kissing me, holding me.

My eyes fell upon the horizon. It was pitch-black and we were encompassed by only the faint shapes, suggestions of trees from behind. The distant darkness was scarred by the shining, twitching lights of the Seattle skyline in the distance and the orange, and sometimes yellow, sparkles shivered and wobbled amidst the obscurity of the night. I noticed that the car was parked at a cliff-edge. Somehow Edward had driven us to a trail, of which was probably not meant for cars, and we sat only a meter from the cliffs of fall, frightful, sheer and no man-fathomable depths.

Though we were dangerously close to a drop, I didn't feel in danger. Despite the fact that it would take only one, long push of a Washington wind to roll the car over the edge, I didn't suggest that we leave. I felt strangely close to this place, to this frontier that we teased, and I didn't want to move. Not yet.

I sensed Edward shuffle, but I didn't feel his eyes on me. I glanced at him, but the sky-line stole my attention again. The crackle of his voice tore through the silence when he spoke, and I, as always, had to uphold my decorum with a strength I'd refined over the past months. "This was.. a nice accident," Edward remarked, apparently awed by the same sight as I was. I chuckled within my chest and placed my head on his shoulder. "A great accident," I assured.

We sat without words for a moment; we didn't need to speak as being in each others' company was a language in and of itself, but I still found that I could see, in my peripheral vision, a frown on Edward's face. "I didn't mean to scare you," he started, sighing somewhat guiltily, "I was angry. You know what I'm like when I'm angry. I do stupid shit. But you know I would never hurt you, right?" I tilted his face towards mine and sent him a reassuring smile. "I know," I said, "and yeah, I know what you're like when you're angry. Remember what you said to Ptero when he woke you up that time?"

Edward shivered with the memory and I felt his skin crease. My experience as the stuntman for every blow-fish operation known to man inspired me to give him a lighthearted taste of his own medicine. "Poor guy won't even open his beak when you're in the house.. you managed to break him. What was it you said again?" I sent him an evil grin.

"Why don't I remind you of the thing you shouted to me in the hospital? Your shit-hot line of Spanish?"

Here lied the remains of Jasper's attempts to embarrass Edward. May they rest in peace and never see the light of day again.

"Whatever. You win," I coalesced, shifting uncomfortably. I needed to brush up on my ways-to-out-smart-Edward skills.

"I know I win," he said proudly, sticking his chest out, "but remind me anyway."

"No," I said firmly, not wishing to embarrass myself. Again.

"Something about brakes? Oh, and curves?" His smile was devilish, like the one he bolstered in the Japanese restaurant. Except then, I didn't have the wherewithal to kiss that grin off of his face. I'd almost forgotten that times had indeed changed. We had changed. Everything had changed. But it was a good change. And it was a change that would enable me to wipe those cocky smiles off of his face in a plethora of manners, whenever and however I saw fit.

"It'll get old, you know," I commented, to which Edward denied out right. We both laughed until silence came, and Edward's arm snuck behind my back. I was clutched into his grip and almost pulled from my seat. My head still on his shoulder, I snuggled into him closely. It was as if we had always been this way, as if we were picking up from where we left off.

I noticed that I could see my breath as I exhaled, and realized that my hands were chilled and icy. Being prone to bad circulation, I grunted and blew into them, to no avail in the slightest. Edward went to turn the car back on, but when I remembered where we were and how we'd broken a dozen city laws by driving off-road, I told him not to make any noise. Instead, I slithered my hands back underneath his shirt, where the heat from his chest brought life back into my nerves. I was being a good citizen by putting my hands there, too; it meant that we weren't burning car fumes by blasting the heat, and was actually a very prudent environmental move on my behalf. _Save the atmosphere! Feel up Edward! _Who could possibly complain about that?

My hands found warmth from the light scruff of hair across his abs, but when I became spoiled and craved further warmth, I moved my hands up to clutch his pecs. Edward didn't seem to mind me using him as a personal and portable heating device, so I snuggled further into him, as if he was a large, broody and red-lipped hot-water-bottle. I maybe pushed the limits of what was deemed acceptable a little too far, as I was practically sitting on him with my arms entangled into his chest; I noticed his shy-face (I could recall most of his faces at this stage) imbue his features. I knew when Edward was relaxed because his bottom lip would drop slightly, but now, his lip was pursed tightly against his upper one as I clutched onto him.. strictly for pragmatic reasons, of course. I was about to pull away and face the cold, lest he got a bit too uncomfortable, until I felt the air rumble through his body and knew he was about to say something. I remained in my position.

"I, ugh, like it when you do that," he stated, in a way that was so utterly uncertain that it almost undid me. I smiled fervently and confidently pressed my arms into his chest, without even a smidgin of apprehension. "Good," I said, "because there's plenty more where that came from." My reply lightened the atmosphere greatly, and some of Edward's rugged confidence came chancing into him.

"I have an idea," he declared, eyes lighting up while I watched with enthusiasm. "Why don't we make this our place? Y'know, if we're ever lost or can't find each other.. we can make this like, our meeting place?" The wonder in his face silenced me, and I watched his mouth move up and down, barely taking anything in. I mean, I heard him, and I thought it was a great idea, but when Edward made his 'I-have-an-idea' face, I usually tuned out and watched the show play-out.

"Jasper?" he prodded uncertainly. "Fuck, it was a stupid idea, right? Forget I said anything."

"I think it's a wonderful idea," I said, putting him at ease. There I was with my torturous ways again, but I swear, it was unintentional. Edward seemed to take my sudden moments of self-dialogue as expressions of disapproval, but the irony was that the exact reverse was usually the case. "So this is our place? What should we call it?"

Edward shrugged. "Jedsper?" His face was dead-pan serious, and I spat out laughing.

"You've got to be kidding me?" I cackled. "Your creativity just exceeds me, Edward."

His hand came and ruffled my hair, an action that was reminiscent of our 'friend' days. "Since you're the new Salvador Dali, what do you have in mind?" he asked.

My eyes drew across the boundary between land, air and water and my mind flashed to the crumbled rock on the chest of the cliff. Our spot almost named itself, as far as I was concerned, and I turned to Edward and said, "Cliff's Edge."

"Cliff's Edge?" he asked, seemingly considering it or else holding back laughing at it. His eyebrow cocked and his gaze dropped to me. "I like that." His arm pulled me in again and I gladly moved wherever it brought me. I didn't move my hands from beneath his shirt because as far as I was concerned, he liked having them there, so we sat together and watched the twinkling lights of Seattle as the sun began to rise from the east. Half of the sky was definitively dark, while the other was a nascent pink and orange. Between the two, was an undecided streak of color that wasn't sure whether it was light or dark, and so remained in between. I couldn't help but identify with it and think that it mirrored how I was with Edward up until this point; I had been mistaken in thinking that Edward was the dark. A friend, and nothing more. I was willing to join him in the dark, when in truth, that was never where he was. He was always in the light, calling me to him, even though I faced the darkness. When the orange and pink rays reached the undecided streak and finally claimed it as their own, it was perfectly reflective of how Edward had reached out to me and enlightened me of what I'd had my back to all along.

My eyes elevated to the man beside me and I nuzzled into him before I looked up with a sleepy smile. He was beginning to nod off with his head tilted against the headrest when he felt my eyes on him and looked at me. "You can go to sleep," he said, his voice crackling, "I won't go anywhere." With a satisfied yawn, I pressed into the niche once again, feeling much warmer now that I was completely up against him. Having his body beneath my hands and face proved to have soporific effects on me, as I'd never felt so relaxed and peaceful in my entire life. His heartbeat against my hands lulled my eyes shut, and the scent emitting from his pulse reminded me that even though I was meters from a devastating drop, I was in the safest place I could ever possibly be.

My thoughts soon leaked from my mind and before I knew it, I was having vivid dreams about kissing Edward.

* * *

I woke up some time later with a gasp. My mouth had opened at some stage during my sleep and as a result, my lips were slathered in a patch of condensation on Edward's neck. My arms were no longer on his pecs, but were instead wrapped around his torso as if I were a koala clutching to a tree. I reddened at how clownish I must've looked, but judging by the deep sleep Edward was in, I doubted he'd noticed.

I felt strangely, yet sufficiently, warm despite the fact I could still see my breath whenever I exhaled. My shirt felt heavy and my neck felt covered, but I put it down to a pinched nerve. I noticed that there was a foreign fabric wrapped around my shoulders, and when I pulled it off, It turned out to be Edward's shirt. My eyes panned over to his chest and indeed, it was bare.

"Edward." I nudged him worriedly and he woke up with a jump. Our eyes locked, while he took a moment to remember where he was, and he asked, "Are you okay? What's wrong?" He sounded almost panicked.

"Nothing," I replied, unwrapping his shirt from me. "You shouldn't have put this on me, you'll freeze." I placed it over him like a blanket, but he quickly removed it and spread it out over me again. "You were shivering last night," he apprised. "So I just put it on you. Wait, you don't mind, do you?"

"No!" I gasped, "I mean, yes, but no, err, yes for you, no for me." I stopped and chuckled at myself. "Look what you've done to me."

Edward smiled with his jagged teeth and pulled his shirt up to my chin. "Morning," he whispered, brushing his lips off of mine. My stomach tensed and I smiled goofily. "Good morning," I stuttered. I had to get used to waking up to his face every morning without looking like a complete red-faced schoolboy. But I still had a feeling that that wasn't going to get any easier.

"How did you sleep?" he asked, early morning emeralds probing me tearily. I never woke up in the middle of the night, nor did I yelp in fear that I'd slept in too long, so it was clear that I'd slept pretty damn well. "Best I've slept in years," I responded. "But I owe that to you."

He smiled proudly and stretched, groaning as he did so. I almost liquified when I saw his abs, pecs, V and biceps flex as he pulled his muscles in ways that brought wonderful sights to my eyes. He was so defined, _svelte_, but defined, and had the perfect amount of fuzz on his stomach, despite his white skin. He had light nipples and prominent collarbones, of which I imagined myself biting and licking. Phew, I could no longer see my breath.

It took all my strength to not throw myself on top of his chest and do very naughty things to him. I needed to keep my control lest I over-stepped things; I knew Edward wanted this, he'd made that very clear, but despite his willingness to be more than a friend to me, this was still new to him and I didn't want to rush things. Maybe that was a self-defense mechanism because I wasn't exactly the most experienced of guys either, but when I empathized with Edward to some level, and remembered that he had in fact admitted to having felt scared by the nature of this situation, I wasn't about to cut my foundations - as I had done with Emmett - and act on what my body implored me to do. No, I'd only go ahead with Edward's consent, and so far, all he'd consented to was kissing, and a little bit of feeling. I was grateful for even having that.

"What do you want to do today?" he asked, pulling me from the prisms of my mind. In response to that, I had no idea. I didn't really want to move from him, especially now that he was shirtless, so I shrugged and threw the ball into his court. "No idea," I yawned, cracking my neck, "I don't really want to go home incase I bump into Emmett, and I don't want to move too far from you. So where does that leave us?" I wiggled my eyebrows at him and he chuckled silently.

"We could.." He drawled out as his eyes elevated to make the Edward 'thinking-face.' I must've smiled goofishly again because I didn't notice that my cheeks were as high as my eyes. "We could get something to eat in the city?"

"No blowfish Edward, so help me God."

"Hater." He mumbled under his breath and feigned anger while I snickered, before he turned on the car and began to pull out of the trail we'd found ourselves in. I searched around the grounds outside and saw that some tire marks were emblazoned on the higher part of the road. With that, I pointed in that direction and signaled Edward back onto the highway. It was unnerving to know that 'Cliff's Edge' was just off of the main highway. I mean, cliff-edges and highways should never have been anywhere near each other - especially in Washington, where there were more idiotic drivers than there were idiotic surgeons - and that was saying a lot. Edward drove noticeably slower than he had last night; I think he was worried about scaring me, which wasn't the case at all, so I lightly insisted that he drive at the speed he'd normally drive at. He had no problem taking me up on that offer, and before I could fasten my belt for dear life, we were breaking the speed limit by 40 mph and weaving between the cars of indignant drivers.

Edward looked like Rambo, as he catapulted - shirtless - through the streets of the city without as much as a nod to the drivers he'd cut in front of. He was lucky that his speed blurred his license plate and when I asked him whether he was worried about getting stopped by the police, he shrugged and said, "Good luck catching me." And having refined my ability to not question every little detail of a situation, I smiled and sat back in my seat, even though I felt a little as if I were on Space Mountain.

Edward parked illegally and stepped out of the car. I tried to warn/remind him that he didn't have a shirt on, but being stubborn headed Edward, he didn't listen and jumped enthusiastically out of the car and into the icy Seattle conditions. As predicted, he shrieked, ripped open the door and threw himself back inside. "Fuck!" he squealed, rubbing his body desperately, "why didn't you tell me I didn't have a shirt on?"

I snorted. "I tried to, but you were so bent on getting out-"

"Yeah, yeah. Revenge is sweet. Shirt please."

I laughed loudly. I actually _was_ genuine in that I tried to warn him, but I could see how he'd think I let him get out on purpose - as revenge for the countless blowfish stunts he'd pulled on me. Unfortunately, he put on the shirt and hopped out of the car, somewhat less exposed this time.

"You know, you're lucky. Had you jumped out in front of an old lady, you'd be sued for contributing to the heart failure of an elder," I said, recalling my own embarrassing encounter with the old ladies in the elevator. Edward cringed and bit his lip. "I feel dirty and in need of a shower. Thanks. Done fucking with me yet? I'm starving." He patted my back and guided me through the streets, apparently set on one particular place to eat. I noticed that he walked with his head down, and when people neared him to a specific point, he'd drift away with his eyes to the floor. Even when an old man accidentally bumped into me, Edward jolted like a cat in water and grabbed my arms to ask me if I was okay. When I told him it was just an accident, he took a deep breath and apologized. I thought it was very strange, but I wasn't about to pry into his idiosyncrasies when I was no perfect individual myself.

When we got to a café called "The Somber Brandi," Edward assured me that it was the most underrated dining place in the entire city. I wasn't about to doubt him, because frankly, he knew the city a hell of a lot better than I did, and I walked inside with him, only to be met by a dim room, with dark wooden furniture and a few tables and chairs. It was almost like a tavern that would've been found in plague-ridden London during the [insert century here.] History wasn't my forté.

"It's dark," I remarked simply. I was hoping he'd bring me somewhere with a view, preferably somewhere romantic, or maybe somewhere to sit outside beneath heat lamps. But if this was what Edward liked, then whatever. I'd make myself cool with it. There seemed to be a bar, and a kitchen, and a deli, and a bakery display. I noted that this was one of those small, family run businesses, where the owner wasn't sure whether to have a restaurant, café or bar, and so decided to just have all three instead. I shrugged and sat down, holding my breath lest I contracted the plague.

I didn't mean to be snobby, especially when the waitress asked me what I wanted to eat, and I responded with, "a certificate of your approved hygienic standards, please." Well, I knew I was coming across snobby, but that really wasn't my intention, despite the look Edward gave me. I was just a little annoyed that Edward hadn't told me why we needed to go to such a dim place, especially after the great night we'd had. It was a bummer on the mood and I guess that bent me the wrong way. I presumed that he liked this bar, restaurant or whatever it was, because it was dim and difficult to make out peoples' faces from a distance. I didn't feel it was my place to ask him why he was so nervous about being seen in public, but it did annoy me that he hadn't thought about maybe giving me an explanation as to why. Maybe he didn't notice? No, surely he _must_'ve noticed how on-edge he was? I wanted a reason, but I wasn't holding out for one, so I remained a little aloof.

"What's wrong?" Edward asked, after the waitress walked away with a huff. Since he wasn't about to tell me anything about his social short comings, I decided to take the same stance and remain secretive.

"Nothing," I sighed. My tone was a testament to my act of immaturity, and although I wished I was one of those perfectly mature people who could just deal with everything so perfectly-perfect-perfect, I wasn't, and this was just how I wanted to deal with it, so I sat obdurately - arms folded - and stiff in my chair.

"I can tell something's wrong," Edward pressed, watching me with suspicious, hooded eyes. "You've been acting strange since we got here."

I laughed somewhat bitterly. "I've been acting weird? Funny you should say."

"Alright," he sighed, pinching his eyes. "What have I done?"

"Nothing."

"Jasper?"

"What?"

"Tell me."

I huffed, rolled my eyes, but acquiesced all the same. It was hard to stay annoyed at Edward, especially when he was genuinely concerned as to what my problem was, and I allowed myself to deflate. "Don't take this the wrong way," I started, flinching after I'd spoken, as my opening phrase was one of those 'no offense, but I'm going to slate your entire existence,' type of openers, "but you're making me nervous. Why were you walking as if you'd escaped a prison? And why are we eating in this place? I mean, I'm sure it's nice, but I can barely see you. And believe me, I want to see you."

Edward shifted uncomfortably, his features heavy and lips pursed. I felt guilty for calling him out so bluntly, and perhaps arbitrarily, but I had to remind myself that it was my lack of communication with him that almost screwed up our entire relationship. In fact, I needed to learn to speak my mind a bit more often, and I was finally ready to execute that. "Hey," I cooed, tilting his chin with my hand. "Don't feel bad, I'm just worried that there's something wrong. Is everything okay?" Carlisle's words seeped into my mind, but I swatted them away without pouring much thought into them. Edward stubbornly brought his chin back to where it was, curled in towards his neck, before I backed off and leaned against in my seat.

"I'm sorry, it's just-"

"It's just what?" he asked acerbically, his eyes masking irritation. "You're too good for me? Is that it? I'm sorry I don't walk the way you want me to, and I'm sorry my taste in restaurants doesn't meet your standards, Jasper. Would you like me to walk you to the door so you can get out of this place that I'm keeping you in? Or would the journey to the door be too embarrassing for you?"

My mouth opened and before I knew it, words I'd never said were being shoved down my throat.

"I thought things were going well? Fuck, I should never have trusted anyone. This city is too shallow."

"Edward!" I gasped, reaching forward to cup his cheek, even though he flicked my hand away. "Calm down, I didn't mean it like that! I just wanted to make sure there wasn't something wrong."

"Well there is something wrong, and it's sitting right in front of me."

"Don't say that!" I chided. "I didn't mean to be-"

Edward stood up but kept his arms and hands pressed against the table's surface. "I don't know what I was thinking with you. I need some air."

I coughed. "Why are you acting like this?" I asked with frustration, my hands illustrating my corroded exterior. "You can tell me."

"No," he dismissed somberly, turning away. "No I can't."

He stormed out of the gritty café with his hands in the air, while I sat silently, not entirely certain as to what had just taken place. I couldn't think of any reason for him to react like that. Was it my tone? My phrasing? My attitude? My body language? Maybe it was to do with the question I'd asked? Goddamn it, I ruined our wonderful string of events with one idiotic, untactful question. Curiosity and frustration, I learned, were a dangerous combination, and had been the destructive cause that forced me to offend Edward. What was I thinking? Why did I ask him something so mindless?

My questions _were_ mindless, right?

Since I'd met Edward, there was always an essence of mystery to his recipe. At first, before I'd learned to accept things, I wondered about it a lot. I'd see him walk with his head down, or check - twice - whether the doors were locked at night. I'd notice him looking around before we'd enter a building, or being on-edge while out on the streets. It was as if he was a fugitive on the run; and despite how unnervingly plausible that was under the circumstances, I doubted that Esme or Carlisle would be hosts to a criminal, regardless of their relation to him. As I furthered my friendship with Edward, I'd taken on a policy of acceptance, and from there, I refused to notice the strange rituals he carried out. Maybe my frustration in _not_ knowing the reasons behind his often strange ways had built up, and I needed to know once and for all.

But it wasn't even as if it was overly difficult to turn a blind eye to Edward's odd public behavior. It was difficult, however, when it came in the way of _us_, meaning, when it was the reason we had to sit in a dark, dim café when we both wanted to look at each other, and make up for all the time we'd wasted; I felt frustrated and in need of an answer. It was easier to ignore something when it was in the peripherals, but today, Edward's obscure ways had wedged themselves in the middle of the great day we were having. Maybe it wasn't wise of me to snap at him, maybe it wasn't wise _at all_, but I didn't want secrecy to be the jealous friend in our relationship.

And there I was talking about relationships. I was kidding myself here. I'd blown it.

Hadn't I?

* * *

A beer, half a pizza and a lonely ice-hockey game later, I was sitting on my living room sofa, flicking through miscellaneous infomercials and documentaries while waiting for my phone to ring and convey Edward's voice. It had been nine hours and twenty seven minutes - give or take after the decimal point - since I'd pissed Edward off and he'd stormed out, and fifteen hours and fourteen minutes since he'd last kissed me. The second precious day of my liberation had been spent staring at my phone for 77% of those nine hours and twenty seven minutes, and the remaining 33% was taken up by thinking of what I'd say to Edward when/if he phoned.

I was at a loss with what to do with myself. Almost every day these past months had passed through a filter of either Edward, work, or both. Now, neither of these factors were currently present in my life, and I found myself in Limbo - again. Limbo was my second home at this stage; I'd been there with Edward, and now I was there without Edward. I didn't even have the luxury of work to distract me.

I tried petting Bierce Fitch to occupy some time, but she was still frightened of me since my 'mayonnaise' threat yesterday afternoon. Ptero was giving me the cold shoulder because of the shirt I'd thrown at his cage, and this was evident when I went to bring him for a walk and he said, "I like Emmett better." With that being a rather large blow to the chest, I flicked around and allowed the television - my last comrade - to take up my time.

Well, that wasn't completely true. Out of the five members of my 'family,' three were angry with me; one _I_ was angry with, and the other.. well, I wasn't quite sure. Last I'd heard from Sofia, she mentioned being inundated with intern work and having very little time to hang out. She wasn't angry at me, at least, so she was somewhat of a neutral party, but because I didn't have access to her, the fruits of our communication were not within reach. And despite the recent growth of my confidants, I felt as if I was Bierce Fitch - my list of allies had conversely grown thin. Until Sofia was granted some sort of leave or break, I would remain in the outskirts of companionship for the time being.

I began thinking about my situation with Emmett. As far as he was concerned, we were on good terms, as he had no idea that I knew what he'd said to Edward. I mean, desperate times, desperate measures: I could've just continued on as if nothing had happened, as I wasn't even certain if Edward was going to come back or not. But I still didn't want Emmett to get away with being so deceptive. So I decided to keep hold of my conviction and interrogate him at a later date.

As I thought about all my screw ups with those closest to me, I began to question if I was in the wrong. Maybe I was unreasonable in asking Edward why he was somewhat socially inept; maybe I was wrong to expect Emmett to be happy for Edward and I after what I'd done to him all those months ago; maybe I was wrong to threaten Bierce Fitch and Ptero at a time when silence was so imperative. Maybe I was wrong about everything. Maybe I wasn't good enough.

I felt my diaphragm drop and my nose twitch. My eyes were on the television, but they weren't watching it. I would've eaten my sorrows away with the last half of the pizza on the table had it not been for the knock on my door that utterly startled me. I glanced at my phone and saw that I had no texts or missed calls; I thought it odd as Edward would almost always let me know in advance before he'd ever turn up beyond plan. Likewise, Emmett had a key and never had the courtesy to knock, and Sofia.. well, Sofia would just shout, "Jasper! It's Sofia! Open tha door! I have tequuuuilaaa!"

So who could it have been?

I apprehensively ambled to the door, chained it, and creaked it open. I took a breath when Edward's face appeared, looking vehemently ghastly and unhinged. His skin was white - ghostly so - and his hair was unusually disheveled. Something dropped from within, a feeling that sent a shiver down my spine as I sensed something ominous charging towards me, biting, swiping and nearing, regardless of prediction.

I should've been happy to see him, but instead, I was worried about something unknown. An instinct.

"J-Jasper, can I come in?" he asked shakily. I unchained the door and opened it slowly. "Of course, Edward, is everything.. okay?"

He shot me a look as I stepped to the side to welcome him in. It was almost as if he was telling me not to and I eyed him suspiciously. His eyes grew wide as he started to mouth something to me, but I couldn't make out what he was saying.

"You won't wake the neighbors," I said, brushing off of a joke, "just say it."

Edward was tossed into my arms from a deceiving force and I just about managed to catch him as we both tumbled backwards. The door was suddenly shut and my fears were aroused by confirmation.

Standing before me was a mousy looking man. Although short, what he lost in height he made up for with a terrible presence. Long, black hair that was semi clipped behind his head, fell to his shoulders in thin, almost elvish, strands. I really thought I'd seen the epitome of paleness when I'd met Edward, but this man's face was whiter than chalk, and in contrast with his jet-black hair, he looked like a phantom. Finally, my skin curled under his scrutiny, as his charcoal, beady eyes watched my every move in a way a spider or any other insect would optically dissect its prey.

"My, my," he teased, taking a step closer to us as I shuffled backwards with Edward still limp in my arms. "You must be Jasper Whitlock. Edward's told me so _much_ about you." He stopped, smiled menacingly at Edward, and continued, "My name is Aro, short for nothing. I suggest you remember it, friend." Every word that was formed by his tongue slapping against his sharp front teeth was bolstered by a perky, mocking tone and I trembled with anger, fear and confusion.

"Who the hell are you?" I gasped, clutching to Edward, who wasn't moving. "What are you doing in my house?"

He smiled again, and pins scraped my skin. "Why, my friend, you _invited_ me in!" he apprised. "Edward asked on behalf of both of us. So gentle for the mercenary he is." His eyes raised wistfully before descending back upon me with a reptilian blink. I frantically reached for my phone to call the police and would have done so had I not been halted by his tutting.

"Ah, ah, ah," he chided, smiling. "I wouldn't _do_ that if I were you. You wouldn't want poor, poor Esme to fall down the stairs now, would you?" He cackled loudly. "Or what of poor Carlisle? How unfortunate would it be if he was hit by _another_ car? Such a pity. Now, Jasper, do put the phone down."

It dropped from my hand as my mouth gaped open.

"Surprised?" he continued, grinning. "Some of my colleagues are outside the Cullen household right now - not that that's out of the ordinary - they're always there, watching and waiting for one of the Cullens to make the wrong phone call."

"Who are you?" I growled.

"A friend," he responded. "An enemy. A stranger. It really doesn't matter. What matters is that Edward has something I need. Oh, forgive me for forgetting - he's been tranquilized, he should wake up in a few hours, not that he'd want to." The man stroked his pointed cheek and cackled again. "Where was I? Ah yes! Edward is in quite the predicament, you see, and I'm afraid to be the bearer of bad news, but, so are you!"

"What have you done to him?" I wheezed shakily.

"Given him a few hours of peace. Poor thing needed it after what you did to him."

"What _I_ did to him?" Fear seeped into me as liquids trickled through an IV. "You don't know a single thing about me."

"I wouldn't go quite _that_ far," Aro informed, his tone warped. "I may not know everything, but there's plenty of time to get there. However, I do know some things. Do you know how hurt poor Edward was after you asked him why he.. Oh, how did you put it? 'Walked as if he'd escaped prison?' Such a way with words! Beautifully put, if you don't mind me saying. When Edward got home, he got a little shock - a shock that brought him back to us. Hmm, a good shock, but a shock nonetheless, I'm _sure_."

"I don't know who you are," I said breathily, still holding Edward up. "But I want you to get the hell out of my house."

"My my!" Aro sang. "And I thought Edward had the temper! Fiery little thing you are! Very well, I'll take my leave. I suppose Edward can fill you in on our version of events. I think you'll find he isn't who he said he was." The man marched to the door with a sour snigger, and turned back around to look at me one last time.

"Oh, but Jasper?" he called, his face lighting up. "I'll have you know that Edward's friends and family are treated as .. collateral. Have a wonderful night."

The door shut and my legs collapsed beneath me.

Edward remained tranquilized.


	11. Red Flags

As always, you guys rock, and my disclaimers suck.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Edward, wake up!" I pleaded, shaking his limp body. "I need you to wake up."

My fingers pressed forcefully into the knobs of his shoulders and indented his skin during my ferocious shakings. Edward was on my lap and I cradled him on the floor, feeling lost and overwhelmed by its sudden enormity. The rain pelleted against my windows and sent thick, heavy thrums to vibrate across the walls. I listened out for something to help; something to remind me that I wasn't alone, but despite the drums of the rain, and the occasional icy coo that emitted from Ptero, the silence was unbearably blatant.

"Edward," I pleaded again, shaking him. "Don't leave me alone. Please wake up!" What if I was in danger? What if 'Aro' was coming back? What if they knew everything about me? Did I need to leave? Edward's eyes were sealed shut and his mouth was drooped open as I rattled him in every direction. I shook him to the point of palpitation but it was useless. Whatever they'd injected into him had had powerful soporific effects that far surpassed my attempts. I tried to think of every kind of sedative known to man, and when I realized that Edward had been sedated by people who were most likely medically unqualified, the surgeon in me suddenly jumped to life.

My hands shaky, I lifted his eyelid to examine his pupils. They were completely pin-pointed and constricted, and made him look like he'd seen a ghost. With that, I ruled out Lorazapam. I checked his breathing, which was weak, and I checked his heartbeat to find that it was beating alongside a sluggish pulse. I could tell that he wasn't in immediate danger, but I didn't want to simply place an aspirin in his mouth and carry him to bed. I wasn't prepared to take that risk; the drug must've been strong to knock out a grown man, and knowing the strenuous and meticulous efforts my anesthesiologist carried out to make sure that his patients were never under or over dosed, I didn't want to chance that Edward had received a safe dosage.

My attention was suddenly arrested by a mark on Edward's face, and my eyes popped open. His red, fruitful lips had been frosted by a cold, blue stain. To confirm my fears, I reached for his hands and examined his fingertips, which were indeed blue as well. My heart almost skipped a beat.

"Morphine," I cursed, wiping a hand down my face. "They've overdosed him on morphine."

It took all my effort to drag Edward to my bathroom, place him down gently, and rumble through my cupboards to find the solution I needed to ensure his well-being. Morphine wasn't a sedative, but a pain reliever, and so to consume enough of it so that it were to _become_ a sedative, meant that he'd received an overdosage. A droplet trickled down my forehead as I dropped to the floor and began searching Edward for an injection spot. I needed to know how the drug had been administered. If it had been injected, then I'd need to call an ambulance. However, if he'd consumed liquid morphine then I'd need to clear his stomach. Frankly, it was the difference between a criminal investigation or not.

My hands surfed up his arms, shoulders and chest, in search of a circular mark that would indicate an injection. To my relief, I didn't find one, but I needed to check his legs also. I unbuckled his pants and slid them off before my hands met his skin and pressed downwards. He was clear of injection marks there too, but I didn't feel remotely relieved. In a way, this was even more bothersome as it suggested that he'd consented to it in some way. I eschewed that notion from my mind, not wanting to go there.

I worried that I'd missed something; he still could've been injected anywhere, and it was possible that I'd surfed over it. And not wishing to have any doubts whatsoever, I moved on top of Edward's pale, blue-lipped body and brought my mouth to his. My tongue slicked into his unresponsive mouth and locked momentarily. Slowly, I broke our biased kiss with a gasp, before muttering,

"Tastes like morphine."

That was all the confirmation I needed. As a surgeon and a curious medical student, I could identify the taste of morphine anywhere. It had a distinct metallic, sour flavor that made my eyes crease. The bitterness I associated with it was pulsing from Edward's tongue and gums so I was confident that he had, in fact, consumed the drug orally. My mind flashed to what I'd ask Edward when he woke up, and everything he'd need to tell me, before I reached for the bottle I'd discovered in my cupboards and filled the cap with the solution inside.

Ipecac syrup was a joy for flushing out the stomach. It would make you violently ill in a matter of minutes, and was perhaps strong enough to wake Edward up. I poured the liquid into his throat and rubbed it softly from the outside to ensure it went down smoothly. I chucked Edward's shirt, coat and jeans into the hall and steadied him over the toilet firmly. Holding his jaw in place, I waited.

And waited.

Suddenly his eyes shot open and he was spilling all the morphine, ipecac syrup and whatever else he'd eaten, into the toilet. One of his hands gripped my shirt as he retched into the bowl with gasps and groans. From the side, I could see his abs tense and refine as his entire body threw itself into a clearance. When he had apparently and sufficiently purified himself, he fell sideways into the wall and weakly slumped down. His hand dropped from my shirt and left a crumpled crease right in the center. I snatched his hand and held it in my own, pleased to see the blueness take its timely leave from his fingertips.

I inched closer on my knees and gently tilted Edward's face upwards. His eyes were glossy and drowsy, but open and somewhat conscious. My hand moved under his chin and my thumb gently stroked his stubbly cheek.

"Edward," I said, my tone firm. "It's me Jasper. I don't know if you remember what happened, but you need to stay still, okay?" I stopped and reminded myself of what he needed to hear the most. "You're safe. He's gone."

One of Edward's eyelids drooped lower than the other and he attempted to focus in on me despite his head swaying from one shoulder to the other. "J-Jasper?" he acknowledged drunkenly. "Are you? Where am? Ugh." He clutched his head dizzily and groaned, while I kept my hand upon his face. "You're at my place," I said, unsure as to what he did or did not remember. "You were sick, but you should be okay now. I'm sorry I had to take off your clothes, I needed to check a few things.." I was jumping around the elephant in the room. I didn't want to remind him of Aro and that entire confrontation, which was why I began to inform him of trivial facts and matters. "You'll need a lot of rest and water until you feel back to normal. How are you feeling?"

"Shit." His voice was sludgy and curdled, and his eyes were still out of proportion. I took a deep breath.

"You remember what happened?" I asked, hoping he'd say yes so that I wouldn't have to remind him. He looked up suspiciously and managed to cock an eyebrow.

"Bits and pieces," he admitted truthfully, "Wh-Why do I feel like this?"

I sighed. "Morphine, Edward. I don't know why, but your stomach was filled with it." Being a surgeon, I felt a little frustrated as we tapped into the medical side of things. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? Or what you could have done to your body? Your brain? Your life?"

He humbled and deflated, and I guessed that he'd remembered the "version of events" that Aro had mentioned. My hand slid from his face.

"I know," he sighed remorsefully, his hands falling to his lap. "You think I wanted to drink it?"

"I don't know what to think," I admitted. Silence imbued us both, once again, and although we had so much to talk about, I found myself at a loss for words. Edward slumped his head back against the wall as I stared blankly at a stain on the ground. I briefly looked at him and back to the stain again as Carlisle's words, one last time, swirled through my mind.

_"..Has Edward told you about him? About his situation?" _

"We need to talk," I declared judiciously. "Let's go to the sitting room."

"I'll need help." I reached down and pulled him to his feet, noticing how easier it was the second time around, and he managed to stay upright, leaning against the walls defiantly and unwilling to allow the drug's effects to weaken him. I gave him a moment to brush his teeth, and when we got to my sofa, I carefully lowered him down and brought his legs up so that he could lie down comfortably. However he insisted on sitting upright and, not wishing to overstep his pride, I nodded and sat on the chair opposite.

I didn't know where to start, or even how to start. All I knew was that something _had_ to start, but from what point to which end, wasn't entirely clear. There it was again. The word 'clear.' It always showed its face in the most offbeat of times; dormant when I wanted it, and bare-chested when I eschewed it. It taunted me, mocked me, and threw each obstacle that I faced into a terrible contrast. Clarity wasn't exactly something that lived in my shadow; or perhaps, it did, and that was exactly the problem.

What was clear, however, was Edward's voice when he finally decided to speak and pierce me with a sudden, regretful tone that fluttered through his speech. "Jasper-" he started.

"Don't apologize," I said, twiddling my thumbs nervously. "Just tell me. Tell me everything." Edward nodded somberly and took a deep breath, while I waited, and waited for the holes in the chain of events to be filled. "A few years ago," he began shakily, his steady decorum crumbling. "My Dad was laid off from work after there was a huge cut in the company he worked for. My Mom was a sub-employee of his, so when he lost his job, so did his entire team.."

I nodded understandably as I remembered all my colleagues in the general surgery section who'd been sent out the door also. Edward's elbow balanced on his knees, as he sat - eyes in palms - and ventured further. "Fuck," he pressed out.

"It's okay Edward. Take your time," I advised, smiling sympathetically.

"No, I can't," he muttered. "I need to tell you.. I-I've fucked up so much, Jasper. You deserve to know."

"Take a breath." I moved from the chair, placed myself down on the sofa, and wrapped a fervent arm around him. He suddenly felt so frail and breakable, almost like Esme, that I didn't embrace him too forcefully lest I shattered him. Yet, my nearer presence seemed to buoy him somewhat.

"We were alright, y'know? We were comfortable. My parents put me through school and college and never asked for a thing. And then I wake up one day and suddenly we can't pay the mortgage, the gas bill, the electricity.. Shit." He laughed acerbically at himself as he inhibited a sniff. Coughing and clearing his throat, he continued. "I know it sounds so trivial when I say it like this, but the feeling when you realize that you have nothing.. when you realize that the ten dollar bill in your wallet is the last dime to your name.. it's scary. I had a job, but it barely kept the fridge stocked. Nobody would hire my parents because they were 'too old.' It got so bad. Shit, it got so bad. We didn't have electricity, gas, water.. it was all shut off. My mom started reading books under candles and my Dad had to war with the banks every day not to take the house - it was that bad. Then a storm hit us and a part of our ceiling collapsed.." He stopped again, apologized and took a breath. "I knew that I needed cash. I needed quick cash to help my family out. That's when I found Aro. Or, err, when he found me."

I knew something had changed in me as held my chest firmly and wetted my lips. "He's a loan shark?" I asked.

"His whole little gang is. His workers are his bitches. They go around looking for people who look like they need help.. and when you accept it.. fuck, it's the worst decision you'll ever make." His nails pierced the skin of his palms.

"So they've been following you all this time? That's why you were acting so strange in public?" I asked, relieved and feared at once.

"There's a gap," Edward explained, wiping his eyes. "When I borrowed the money from them to fix the roof and pay the bills, they followed me for months." His lip snipped upwards and his teeth began to grit together. "They threatened to kill me if I told the police. And it wasn't as if I cared what they did to me, but when they threatened my parents, going to the police just wasn't an option. They wouldn't leave me alone until I'd payed them back - but not only the amount they'd given me. They'd added on triple the amount I'd borrowed because of shit-crazy interest rates. You have no idea how they followed me, every day, throwing 'reminders' at me, or purposely swerving their cars towards me while I was jogging past that intersection off the 24. They'd leave petunias on our doorstep because they were my Mom's favorite flowers. They chipped away at us, and it took me years to pay the debt. But when my parents were offered their jobs back, they helped me pay it all off. Then, I never saw Aro again. No more reminders. No more threats. No more petunias. Until today."

"Edward.. what happened?" I asked, bringing my hand to his and squeezing it. "Why are they back?"

Edward's neck dropped and his head swung to face the floor. His eyes shadowed and face concealed, I noticed a drop fall to the floor and some vibrations run through his back. When I realized what was happening, that Edward had been whittled to the core, I shuffled closer and kissed his head concernedly, my arm clutching tightly to him.

"It's okay," I sniffed. "I'm with you. You're not alone in this."

"You can't be with me," he drew out. "I'm a cancer, Jasper. You're a surgeon, you get that, right? Everyone around me gets hurt because of what I did - because of those people I made agreements with. The shit I've done spreads to other people and ruins them. I'm a coward, and I'm selfish. I dragged you into this without thinking.. shit, now they're back and they want more money."

"What money?" I asked. "You said you payed them back?"

He sighed and wiped his cheeks and eyes, removing all evidence of the tears that had passed by them. "That was the gap I was talking about. After I left you in that shit-hole café, I got a letter from St Jay's hospital for a medical bill. Just one look at it and I knew that we'd be back to step one if I expected my parents to pay for it. My Dad had no idea how he was going to find the money. Even combining his and my mom's paychecks didn't put a dent in those fees.. so I called Aro."

"Edward, you should have called me-"

"He asked to meet me privately. I just told him to pay the hospital directly, which he did, but at the cost of a doubled interest rate to the last one I'd dealt with. I wasn't even thinking about what I was throwing myself into, I was just so fucking concerned with paying the hospital. Then, he told me something that just snapped me, and I tried to beat the shit out of him, until his pussy cronies kicked me in the stomach."

"What did he say to you?" I asked, my face white.

Edward stopped as the blood seeped from his face and the life drained from his eyes. "You don't want to hear this part."

Although he was right there, I needed to hear it. We'd come this far.

"Fuck." He moved back to his hidden position as his back began to vibrate again. "The accident with my Dad wasn't an accident, Jasper. Those fuckers planted their own people in the other car. It was a huge set-up because they knew my family would never have the money to pay the hospital bills, and would come crawling back to them. I played right into their plan. I'm trapped. They own me. I'm stuck."

"That's _not_ true," I yelped, standing up. "I can pay it. I'm a surgeon, I have a decent income. I'll pay it all. I don't care."

"Not even you have this kind of money, Jasper." His hands drew past his face again and his look of defeat spurred on my efforts.

"What about your health insurance? Won't they cover the cost?"

Edward shot me a look of doubt, and I deflated. "You don't have healthcare, do you?" I intoned. Edward nodded.

I plopped down beside him again and leaned my head against his shoulder. "I can't believe.. Carlisle? They used him to bring you back to them? It's just.. this is so hard. I had no idea." I looked down at my hands as Edward sighed. "Let me help," I said. "You, me, your Mom and your Dad. Between the four of us, we can pay this. I won't let them control you."

Edward turned to look at me, his eyes indignantly watery and imbued with a defiance to appear as such. His emerald eyes searched and probed me until his green irises were right before my pupils and my lips were met with a soft pressure. A hand gently wrapped around the back of my head and pulled me in tighter as my lips fluttered between a gentle surface. I pushed into him and kissed back forcefully. My hands ran through his hair as he bit down on my lips and raked his teeth across them. Such a motion gave way to a smile, and we broke away slowly. Edward's eyes glimmered ruefully at me as the rain halted in its drumming and left us in a passionate, rich silence.

"You saved my life tonight," he said quietly, if not regretfully, as his lips pursed together. "You know I'm not good with things like this, but, thank you."

"Don't," I said, peering down. "But Edward.. why did you-" I stopped and took a breath. "I mean, why did you take all that morphine?"

His eyes broke from mine and my arm slid from his shoulder. "After I tried to punch Aro," he said, sighing deeply. "They held me down and poured it into me. I couldn't fight back. Fuck, I couldn't even feel my legs."

"Wait," I drew out, my brows knitting together. "So you _didn't_ give them my address?" The fear of the alternative began to dawn over me.

"No?" Edward assured, his eyes meeting mine with a previously unfound certainty. "Jasper, you know I'd never do that."

My diaphragm dropped. "Then.. H-how did they know where I live?"

Edward watched me for a moment before he cursed under his breath. "They've been watching."

I remembered how Aro knew about my conversation with Edward in the café. "They've always been watching," I said. "They knew about our fight in the café."

"Fuck," he breathed. "I knew they followed me sometimes, but I didn't think they'd follow _you_ too."

"They're not only following me," I intoned dreadfully. "They're holding me responsible."

"How do you know that for certain?" he asked, his eyes seeping with fear.

"Aro told me," I replied, taking a shaky breath. "He said that all your family and friends are held responsible." I didn't realize the severity behind what I was now wrapped up in, mostly because it hadn't quite hit me as of yet, but also because I didn't want to think about it. A knot curled in my stomach as I saw Edward's face swirl with panic.

"This is my fault. Fuck, Jasper. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. Shit."

"Stop apologizing," I said monotonically. "Besides, what can they do? Steal from me? Unless they want Bierce Fitch, there's not much to take."

"That's not what they'll do," Edward sighed somberly, his wrung-out posture sending a frisson down my spine. "This isn't some ordinary group of loan sharks you see on documentaries or television. The reason they wanted me back - the reason they put my Dad into the hospital - is because they like torturing people. It's not all about the money with them. They just use your debt as an excuse to get what they really want, which is the right to fuck with you. They want more people to torture, and that's why they extended their business to my friends and family. They want you to turn out like me, but over my fucking dead body is that going to happen, Jasper. I promise." He sank further into the lips of my sofa with a quivering exhalation, and I felt as if the air humidified all of a sudden.

Dealing with debt was one thing; I mean, it was there, it was something you could watch and control. But the morality of another person? Well, that was beyond what anyone could predict. For my safety, _our_ safety, to be contingent upon the direct decisions, morals and preferences of another person, was a notion that ran through my nerves and startled my endings. This was terrorism. Not knowing what the turning of each page would bring, and fearing the future with every breathing moment was a life that could barely be called a life at all. Now I knew what Edward had lived through; I was to experience the same burdens that had cleaved into his mornings, days and nights, but only this time, these burdens were rooted in deeper soils of prolonged despair that even Edward could not predict. I could tell he was warring with guilt for bringing me into this, but I could also see that he never wanted this to happen. Perspective shocked me to the nuts and bolts as I suddenly found myself realizing why Edward had brought me to dim cafés, had expelled me from ever being in his car and had hesitated before letting me go into his house. He was protecting me. It was all for my own good.

"I'd be lucky if I ended up like you," I said, under my breath, but loud enough for Edward to hear me. This time, his arm pulled me into his chest and clutched me tightly. Aro could have burst in through the door, carrying an AK47 and a chest of dynamite and I wouldn't have cared. Remembering back to when I saw those intense emerald eyes, and then looking up and seeing them again, flitted with warmth and adoration, centralized my thoughts in one place. Here. I wanted to stay here. Exactly where I was. With Edward, and not an inch further.

I was relieved that there were no more secrets between us. No more hiding, and no more avoiding; Edward could walk down the street - head high - with me by his side, without even an iota of concern as to who may have been watching. I wasn't angry that he'd kept all of this from me. Maybe it just hadn't hit me yet, or maybe I just didn't know how to feel, but right now, it wasn't worth being angry. We were both okay, and that was the main thing.

Edward pressed his lips into mine again when he broke away suddenly, cutting off the melodic flow of my lips. "I won't let anything happen to you," he said, pulling me closer. "I know I'm not always great at showing how I feel and shit." He stopped and smiled whilst staring at the floor. "But, Jasper, even when I don't show it or say it, or those times you think I've forgotten what you've done for me.. Just know that I haven't. Fuck, I'm lucky to have had you as my best friend and now look at us. I'm a lucky guy."

I paused and blinked three times, wordless. "Edward," I addressed, looking at him blankly with my mouth slightly open. "That was the nicest thing I've ever heard."

His head tilted and his eyebrow cocked. "So why do you look like you've seen a ghost?"

"Because that was the nicest thing I've ever heard."

"Oh."

After staring at him for a moment, I grabbed his face between my hands and pushed it against my lips, suffocating him in the process. The events of tonight had made me forget that Edward was in his underwear. Whoa! Edward was in his underwear! I suddenly felt very warm in weird and wonderful places. And the fact Edward licked my lips with his tongue certainly didn't help either. Possessed by enthusiasm, I breathed over that muscle that stuck out from his neck before angling it between my front and bottom teeth and clasping down gently. Edward yelped loudly and chuckled afterwards.

"Fuck, Jasper," he moaned. "How did you..? Oh, shit!" I bit down again, but this time, I drew my tongue across the indentions my teeth had embedded into his neck, and I left a hot trail of saliva down his pulse. I lifted from him to look at his chest, that was now wholly uncovered and within my sight.

I nearly drooled at the view.

His abs were laced with fine hairs that started and ended in the valleys of his abdomen. His upper torso was a plain of white, pale skin and was met by the shadow of his pecs and a light of shade of hair around his pink nipples. What really made my eyes bulge were his collarbones. They traversed the base of his throat in two, defined trails and framed the entire shape of his upper body with a sculpted and refined structure. His shoulders constructed the power of his arms and gave contrast to the length of his neck. I must have stared for a time longer than what was deemed respectable, as Edward asked, "Jasper? Are you alright?" And I had to shake myself back to plant earth.

"Just fine," I said.

With that, I was pulled into his lips again. Aware of the body I was lying on top of, I could hardly concentrate on anything else. In fact, I didn't even notice Edward pulling my shirt from over my head. The warmth of my golden, honey-kissed skin against his icy, pale equivalent did strange things to us both. For me, it gave me a flashback; a flashback to the sensation of an erection up against denim. Edward noticed what was poking out from beneath my jeans and he stared curiously.

"You're hard," he commented, eyes unable to deviate. I looked down at myself, back up at Edward and then back to myself again. "I guess I am," I replied. He looked at me as if he'd never seen another guy's clothed erection before. I was about to ask him whether or not that was the case, when the answer hit and halted me suddenly. I'd completely forgotten; he hadn't seen another guy's hooded erection before. I rolled off of him, reached for my shirt and thew it over my lap. Edward's face then shot to look at me, and I gave him a knowing nod.

"What're you doing?" he asked, trying to pull the shirt away from me. "I thought we were going to-?"

"Not tonight," I said slowly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "This is new to you. I don't want to scare you."

"But Jasper," he protested. "I want to do this for you. I owe it to you."

The knot in my stomach curled even tighter, but I sent him a smile and pecked him on the lips. "You don't _owe_ me anything. Thank you for wanting to do this, but you're not in debt to me. I don't want you feeling like you have to." I was glad I had the sense to stop myself there. I knew why he wanted to go further, but had I let him advance on me while knowing the truth behind his actions and intentions, would make me no better than Aro - taking what I felt I deserved. Edward wasn't ready neither mentally nor physically to go further. And to be honest, neither was I.

"But-"

I kissed him before he could protest, and I brought my lips to his ear and whispered, "how about an old fashioned high-school make out instead?"

The wistful expression waned from his face and he smiled devilishly. "Fuck," he breathed, watching me while panting. "That sounds so hot."

We leaned closer and locked tongues intimately after which neither of us spoke for a long, long time.

* * *

I woke up on the sofa at 7am the next morning, with my head nestled into Edward's chest. He looked so cute while he was sleeping! I could've played with his face or flicked at his nose to wake him up, but as far as he was concerned, that was a violation of human rights. I chuckled and poked his neck with my nose. He had that "Edward smell," as I had so poetically labelled it, after months of leaning in close just to give a whiff here and there. He also had a habit of licking his lips in his sleep, and every time he did so, my mouth would purse into a perfect 'o.' It was rather mesmerizing, if you don't mind me saying so.

I was about to close my eyes and welcome dreams of Edward into my mind, when a deep, crackly voice made my eyes jolt open and skin prickle. "Morning," Edward whispered into my ear, so close that his breathing left droplets of condensation below my ear-lobes. I gulped with restraint and smiled. "Good night, evening, morning," I blurted. "Oops. I haven't fully woken up yet." I smirked with one side of my mouth and Edward chuckled deeply. He brushed his lips past mine, and my skin went on end again. "You're cute when you're confused," he whispered again. My leg jerked a little and I smiled clownishly. "That's funny," I remarked. "Because you have a cute confused face too."

Edward gawked at me with utmost conviction and said, "I assure you, Jasper, I do not have a confused face, nor a cute face for that matter."

"Oh but that's where you're wrong!" I cackled. "You're doing a cute face, right _now_."

He quickly simplified his expression and lowered his brows, giving himself an earthy, broody expression. "Edward Cullen doesn't _do_ cute."

"That's what you think," I quipped.

"That's what I know," he shot back.

We then blurted out in laughter and tangled further into each other. I pressed out the air in my lungs and melted into Edward's chest. "I like this," I said, smiling. "It's funny. You'd think after last night we'd be stressed and broken. But I haven't felt this relaxed in years. Maybe it's because we've cleared the air. You know what? I think-"

"Hey Jasper?" Edward interjected.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

I blinked a few times and laughed out loud again. "Sorry, didn't mean to ruin the moment." Lips pressed against my forehead and my skin jumped to life. "Or, erm, maybe I should ruin our moments more often." Edward smiled as he kissed me and I felt his teeth against my skin.

"Don't push it," he quipped, into my ear, before grinding my earlobe between his teeth. My whole body jerked and I moaned loudly. "I'll wake up the entire floor," I groaned, gently pushing his head away. "I have sensitive ears."

"Noted," he said quietly, at which stage I couldn't deny the trickling excitement in my diaphragm. No, I needed to stay in control. Edward thought he was ready, but I didn't think he was. I didn't want to scare him, although it was that attitude that made me oblivious to his advancements back when we were just friends. Ah, no Jasper! It took me well into my adult years to finally be with a guy, and walking straight from hell to heaven was certainly an eye-opener. Despite his enthusiasm, being with a guy was new to Edward, so I wasn't about to let him get his way with me. Besides, it wasn't all about him either. I'd mentioned that, right? I hadn't exactly been with someone recently, so all of this was relatively new to me too. I wasn't one of these people who could just screw someone and be done with it. When I was ready to do something like that, it meant I was ready to share a very personal part of myself with someone. And were Edward and I there yet? Not quite. But _could_ we get there at some stage? I was certain of it.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, sending him a grin. "I think there's a leek somewhere in my cupboards. Oh! And maybe some sage, but it could be a few years old. I think it might have been there since before I moved in. Should I call the museum?"

"Ha-Ha," Edward sang monotonically. "No seriously, what is there to eat?"

"No seriously, there's nothing."

Edward cocked his head. "What have you been eating?"

I thought for a moment and was relatively surprised by my answer. "Now that you mention it.. I haven't eaten anything."

Edward stared at me for a moment. "You mean you haven't eaten _anything_? How are you still alive?"

"I'm a surgeon," I said proudly, "I can live on water and two hours of sleep."

His eyes seemed to scan my chest before he looked back up at me, making his confused/cute Edward face, of which he had flat-out denied the existence of. "Then how are you so muscly? I have to eat a ton to stay in shape."

I peered down at my svelte chest; other than the faint abdominal lines and the fist-sized pecs, I didn't really think I had a single muscle to my name. Well, maybe except for my eye muscles. They'd gotten very strong from peering through microscopes for hours on end. I looked back up at Edward.

"I'm not muscly," I responded, rubbing my hand down my chest. "I mean, I don't exactly have time for the gym or any other types of exercise you perfect sporty people do."

"Fuck, I hate you," he responded wistfully. "You don't even work out and you have a body like that."

I chuckled confidently. "Jealousy doesn't suit you Edward. In fact, it brings out your cute face."

With that, Edward rolled on top of me and began growling anomalistically as I chortled beneath him. His hands moved down my apparently sculpted chest while he pretended to chomp down on the side of neck, when really it was just his open mouth and teeth pressed against my pulse. I laughed harder and scratched down his back, to which he grunted and kissed my face. As my nails trailed down his spine and slid back up in a manner so gently that his skin began to prickle, my hands came to an abrupt stop when the doorbell rang.

Edward stopped kissing my face and his head jolted to the egress. His joyful expression waned and suddenly, his face was hardened by a wave of unnerving seriousness. Stiff above me, he slowly crawled from my body and tiptoed towards the door. I took a breath to say something, but he quickly shushed me. Gliding over my floor as a limbless ghost, Edward advanced towards the door and peered through the hole. Fastening the chain, he slowly creaked it open and peered both left and right down the hall. My stomach knotted.

When it was apparently safe, he turned to me and nodded. I stood up and joined him, placing my hand on his back. Edward deflated and said, "Must've just been some kids," before he went to close the door. However, I stopped him as an undulating flash of red from the floor caught my eye. He hesitantly allowed me to pass him as I bent down and pulled what was a red and white, square fabric from the ground just beyond the threshold of my apartment.

"A Danish flag?" Edward asked, his eyebrow lifted. "That's funny. Why would someone leave a Danish flag on your door-step?" He moved and pulled the fabric from my stiff, whitened fingers and chuckled nonchalantly. "I've always wanted to go to Denmark. I've heard Copenhagen is one of the nicest cities in Europe. Hey, I'd love to go with you some day. Why don't we look into it.. Jasper? What's wrong?" He came to a devastating halt as he watched me hesitantly, his eyes probing me as my limbs wobbled.

"Shit. Sorry. Was that pushing it? Fuck, I always push it. Forget I said anything, I-"

"Edward," I interrupted, staring at the floor, my eyes wide. "My mother is Danish."

He stopped, and his eyes moved from the flag, to me, and finally to the bottle of Ipecac syrup I'd brought from the bathroom. His eyes suddenly bulged and his mouth dropped.

"Who have you told?" he asked.

I shook my head slowly. "Nobody. Nobody at all."

"Aro?" he asked.

"Aro," I said.


	12. Octopuses

*Comes out of hiding* Sorry, sorry, sorry! I really do mean that! I wish I could express how busy I've been this week. It's just one of those hectic times where you don't have a minute to sit down, and when/if you do, you tend take it as an opportunity to sleep. Luckily, things are back to normal on Wednesday so expect another chapter this weekend. I managed to write this one through a combination of sporadic 15 mins of freedom here and there. I hope you enjoy it.

Oh and of course, a disclaimer: *Insert failed attempt at a funny disclaimer here.* Is that lacking? ;-).

And as aaaalways, thank you for reading, reviewing, subscribing and everything. I love writing for such avid, enthusiastic readers.

Finally, any text between a set of [ insertwordhere ] means that the sentence is being spoken in Danish.

Enjoy!

* * *

History was very much in order here. Although I'd never mentioned it to Emmett, Sofia, nor Edward, my mother's side of the family was Danish. And when I say Danish, I didn't mean Americans who, five generations ago, were Danish. I mean, my mother and her family were pulled right from the boats and easels of Skagen, a small coastal village in the north of the peninsula, and into the outside world without as much as a word of English. I never felt the need to broadcast my heritage to anyone, mostly because I didn't think anyone would care, but also because I didn't want to be asked, "So do you speak Danish?"

_Sigh_. Yes. Yes, I could speak Danish. Whoop-Di-Doo. Party on. But if anyone expected me to speak a line of it, then they were sorely mistaken. I guess I'd grown a little bitter towards the accent my mother had given me whilst growing up. Although English was my first language, it took years before I could speak it confidently and nonchalantly. Being the sponge-headed child I was, I picked up on a few of my mother's Danish pronunciations of English words and ended up mispronouncing them as she did. When kids of the schoolyard pointed at me and said, "you sound funny!" I quickly made every effort to pull the soapy Danish sound from my voice. Of course, it always slipped through a little; even today, I'd pronounce an English word with a Danish accent, or vice versa. Bilingualism was the bane of my existence.

My great grandmother, Marie Kroyer, married into the Skajen painters, a colony of artists who painted _en plein air _in Northern Denmark. I never really asked much about her, other than when I was shown the occasional painting of hers that had been archived in the family vaults. I was told that she was somewhat promiscuous, but the thought of my great-grand mother having relations of _that_ nature, was a rather gross thought for me, so I tended to clear my mind of it. After her, came Vibeke Kroyer, my grandmother, who died when I was very young. I was told that she held me once, and that I got my eyes from her. But when I saw a photo and realized that she was somewhat cock-eyed, well, let's just say that it made me very, very self conscious for a few months.

And then, well, next up was Clara Jensen, my mother. My mother and I had a very strange relationship. Put it this way, I didn't even know her age. She refused to tell me, and whenever I'd ask, she'd respond with, "age means nothing, Jasper!" She was also very, very clingy. And I don't mean in the cute motherly way where she'd give me some cookies while I was out the door, I mean something more like, "Here's some new jeans, shirts and ties," and before I knew it, I'd be outfitted in her chosen attire before even the slightest objection could be made. I wasn't sure if she was aware of it or not, but I often thought that her esoteric ways derived from the various lives she'd lived. She wanted to be as Marie, and paint her legacy in the form of landscapes and alfresco, rather than having children as we mere mortals did. For what it was worth, she told me that she had also managed a hippy-inspired hotel called "The Stoned Fish" at which she left to pursue a career of acting in Paris, London and Milan. Somewhere along the line, she met my father and from there, as they say, was history.

Even though my parents now resided in southern Florida, my mother still took much pride in her Danish nationality. I guessed that being away from home had brought that out in her. She was very much a straight-stood, occult woman who spent most of her time fancying ideals and dreams while raising a son of utilitarian and pragmatic tendencies. Yes, we were polar opposites, in every sense. So much so, that I had to move to Seattle, the furthest possible city from southern Florida, just to break free of her. But don't get me wrong; I loved my mother, very much so, but I could only admit that in light of our distance. We were an explosive combination; two conflicting sides of a magnet. I often wondered if I was adopted.

And now Edward stood opposite me, with the flag of my heritage entangled around his fingers, the white cross curling through his palm. As he fondled it and thought about what action to take, I could only draw confusion from why the flag had been placed outside my door in the first place. What was Aro trying to say? That he knew more about me than I thought? That my mother was in danger? That my parents were also responsible for Edward's debt? The mystery crippled me, and I looked blankly up at my confidant.

"We need to go to Florida," I said, my eyes glued to the flag.

Edward cocked an eyebrow. "Florida?" he asked. "Why would we go there?"

"My parents live there. I need to know they're okay and safe."

Edward stepped towards me and squeezed my shoulder ruefully. "This is my fault Jasper."

"No, this is Aro's fault," I responded harshly, grinding my teeth. "And if he thinks I won't call his bluff and fly to Florida myself, then he's wrong there."

"Why not just call them?"

"Because," I sighed. "I can't trust that they're not being watched. I'm with you on this Edward, but I need to know that my family is okay. Come with me?"

Edward's brought his hands to his sides and exhaled deeply. "I can't," he pressed out, raking his fingers through his hair. "Every cent I've got goes into that bastard's pocket."

I pulled out my phone and dialed a number that hadn't crossed my phone in decades. When I began to speak, Edward's mouth almost hit the floor.

"Hi, could I book two flights to Miami, Florida, please? The next available flight, yes, thank you."

When I hung up, Edward was gawking at me. "I never even said yes!" he exclaimed, arms in the air.

"We could use a holiday. Go get dressed."

"But?"

"Now."

I nudged Edward towards my bedroom, and then to my wardrobe where he'd find something to wear. I packed enough clothes for the both of us, my passport, wallet, phone and then zipped up the bag and slung it over my shoulder. I wasn't really thinking about how I'd look when I arrived, with my parents' well-being dominating all else in my mind, but I knew my mother would smile and naively eject one of her passive insults at me, where she'd ask, "Did you ever use that wrinkle cream I gave you last year?" or "Did you know that too much work makes your face rounder? You look like you're working very hard." Either way, I was prepared to endure any comment regarding my appearance if it meant my parents were safe and beyond the reaches of Aro's men. It was possible that he did a search on my surname online, as my mother went through a phase of documenting her and my father's entire family tree on the internet. But regardless, I didn't want to risk unwelcome eyes peering through the windows of my family-home every night.

Edward waddled awkwardly out of my bedroom door, looking distressed and noticeably uncomfortable. He was wearing one of my V-neck T-shirts, covered by a rustic blue zip-up which was tied by the strings across his collarbones. I would have complimented how well he sported my mostly unworn clothes, but when my eyes dropped to assess his, or, err, _my_ jeans, I blinked twice and burst out laughing. They fit him perfectly in terms of length and width, and the fabric crumbled stylishly in all the right places. But as for his bulge, well, I feared that customs would think he were smuggling something in his package. Yep, that bad.

"It's gonna blow!" I declared, dramatically covering my head with my arms and falling to a crouch.

Edward huffed and waddled past me, his hands clenched into tight fists either side of him. "This was the loosest," he grumbled, pulling the denim away from his crotch for a moment. "How the hell do you wear these?"

"Either you're packing a rocket or else my jeans just have tight crotches." I pointed at his bulge and laughed. "I'm hoping for option one though."

"Glad you find this so funny," he grunted. "But at this rate there won't be any rocket. Not after it explodes, anyway."

"Explodes?" I gasped with a wink. "Edward, you dirty little -"

"No! Not _that_ kind of explode," he amended frantically, waving his hands. "Hey wait! You're the dirty one!"

I winked again and slid past him, but stopped just at his ear. "I hope nothing hard comes your way on the flight," I whispered, before disappearing into my bathroom with a cackle, while Edward stood still in my hallway. I continued to snicker, with my toothbrush in my mouth, until I heard him tip-toe into my bedroom, shut the door, and lock it. After I'd washed my face, eyes and hands, I ambled out of the bathroom and knocked lightly on my bedroom egress.

"Edward? Are you okay?" I asked, my brows knitted.

I heard a shuffle and a gasp. "Ugh, yeah. Just fine. I thought you were taking a shower?"

"I never even said the word shower," I responded slowly, and suspiciously. "What're you doing in there?"

There was a pause. "Just seeing if the jeans I arrived in are okay to wear,"

I nodded and began to walk towards the kitchen until my feet trampled into a pile of clothes in the center of the hall. In it, was Edward's shirt, coat and jeans. Now completely suspicious, I marched back to the door. "Edward," I called, "your jeans are out here."

I heard 'shit' grunted beneath a breath. "Ugh, oh yeah. Right you are! Thanks for telling me."

"Open the door."

"Not yet."

"What do you mean _not yet_?" My eyes creased and I fiddled with the knob. "Open up!"

"Fine. But on one condition," my trustee ventured, his voice wavering. I pushed against the door, but when it failed to pop open, I acquiesced and groaned. "Fine," I sighed, tilting my head back. "What do you want?"

"Take out your phone and read something. Loud," he requested, while I tilted my head. My mind at a loss, my brows knitted. "Or you could just come out here and read it yourself?" When no reply came, I huffed and pulled out my phone. "What do you want me to read?" I asked.

"Anything," he responded, his voice quieter. "I don't care."

"Ugh, okay." I loaded a webpage and clicked on the first article that Google gave me. I was elated when I discovered that the heading was, "New machine to assist surgeons in appendectomies," and I began reading it aloud. ".. built and designed by student Achira Sato, who hails from Osaka, Japan, the new machine will be able to detect the exact location of the appendix, and can extract it with the help of.."

"Something else," Edward demanded abruptly, not even giving me a reason why.

I grunted. "What're you doing in there? Open the door!"

"Read something else!"

"Jesus!" I angrily swiped to a different article and, after complaining under my breath, began to read. "Octopuses are very hostile creatures when provoked. Many sailors have tried to get up close to them, but when they begin to poke at the animal's soft exterior, the octopus's long, various, arms will stiffen and become very hard."

I heard no complaints from Edward, and I apprehensively continued.

"When in attack-mode, the octopus will wrap it's pulsing lengths around its victim and will began to suck on him. The intense pressure will make the victim light headed, and his entire body will begin to shake."

I heard Edward mumble 'yeah,' under his breath and, although confused, I continued.

".. the octopus does not have any teeth in the standard sense, so while this sounds like a mitigator of the threat that these animals pose, the reverse is actually the case. The fact these beasts are almost always toothless, means that their suction power is not blocked by any physical obstacles. They simply suck, and suck and suck until the victim cannot breathe any longer."

"Shit yeah," Edward groaned.

"Huh?" My eyes flicked from the article and my thumb halted over the screen.

"Nothing," he panted, "keep going."

I shrugged and took a breath. "Where was I? Oh yeah. The average octopus has a very sticky exterior. When exposed to air for long periods of time, clear, salty fluids will emit from its skin to keep it moist. However, when it can no longer do this, the skin will tighten and pull back. The glands on the animal's arms will be exposed and will remain very, very sensitive." I took another breath and pressed out slowly. ".. If the octopus is placed into fresh water, the glands will ooze and spit the same salty fluid out around it, to attempt to salinize the water. However if it is placed into a -"

"Fuck, Jasper," I heard Edward groan, and I indignantly flicked the article away. "Fuck _Jasper_?" I called out angrily. "I'm the one reading stupid animal stories to you for no reason! You know what? Fuck Edward!"

"Fuck Edward?"

"Yeah! Fuck Edward!"

I heard a groan. "Oh fuck."

"Oh fuck _what_?" I asked

"Yeah, Jasper," he panted

"Yeah Jasper?"

"Yeah, Jasper!"

"Yeah _what _Jasper?" I raised my voice

"Fuck! Jasper!"

"Huh? Hey! Fuck Edward!"

"Fuck Edward?"

"Fuck Edward!"

"You wanna fuck Edward?"

"What?"

"You wanna fuck Edward?" he shouted back

"What? Yes! I mean, no! I mean, not yet!"

"I'm gonna come!"

"You _what_?"

"I'm gonna come!"

"Edward! You mean you're jer-?"

"Fuuuuuck!" he squealed loudly, groaning for seven long seconds as I stood, open mouthed at the other side of my door. I didn't dare say a word as I only _then_ realized what he'd been up to, and all I could do was slide my phone into my pocket and turn around, my expression as if it had been struck by a gale-force wind. This time, _I_ waddled into my living room and sat down slowly, where I then stared at the wall for a moment and blinked far too many times. After I heard the clack of the lock echo down the hall, Edward stepped, light-footed, into the kitchen and cleared his throat.

I turned my head and looked at him for a moment as he shuffled uncomfortably and knocked his heel against the floor. "Ugh, sorry 'bout that," he peeped, not daring to look up from where his shoe was flicking the floor. I stood up, cleared my throat, and rolled my tongue between my lips and pressed downwards.

"Octopuses? Really Edward?" I lifted up my phone and showed him the article. He rouged and gasped in the form of a hiss, as if he'd just watched a cheetah demolish a wildebeest - excuse the animal references - before he took a long, agonizing breath. "I had to, so that something _hard_ _wouldn't come my way _while on the plane, where I couldn't do anything about it."

I was interested in other matters.

"Octopuses?" I drawled out.

"That wasn't what I was jerking off to," he defended, his mouth wide. "It was your voice."

"My voice?" I gasped, thinking back to when I'd once heard my voice on a video and hated the sound of it. "You got off on.. my voice?"

"No, Jasper. I've got a secret octopus fetish." He stopped and his face flicked upwards. "Shit, you'll probably believe that. C'mon, what _else_ would I be jerking off to?"

I shrugged. "I didn't know you were jerking off at all."

Edward's hand slapped his face and his head moved from side to side. "You're a strange creature, Jasper Whitlock. I can say that much."

I smiled and licked my lips. "Says Octoboy!" I chortled. "I'll never let you live this down."

"Don't you have some Spanish to be speaking?" he threw back, eyeing me mischievously. "Or do you need your brakes oiled?"

"That'll get old," I dismissed devilishly, "you just wait." I turned to pack a few last things into my bag before I was called back by Edward and quickly pulled into an embrace that consisted of tight arms, close chests, and teeth gently raking my earlobe. "I hate you," he whispered, smiling and running his tongue against my lobe. I exhaled shakily and managed to grin.

"Hate you too," I groaned, before moving in for a kiss.

* * *

The flight to Miami, and the journey to the airport, was a complete disaster. Being the time-paranoid and perfection seeking surgeon that I was, I insisted that we arrive four hours in advance, much to Edward's chagrin. Stepping outside the door of my apartment proved difficult for both of us, but we pressed on stoically and got to my car without being outwardly confronted by Aro or one of his groupies. But what went up had to come down, right? Edward's mind was so preoccupied with getting me to the car safely that he left my front door open, and subsequently allowed Ptero to fly out of my humble abode with Bierce Fitch in close pursuit.

I had already pulled out of my drive way and was driving down the main-road when, in my right mirror, I saw a blue and yellow parrot chasing my car, and a cat sprinting and leaping beneath, trying to claim the bird for her dinner. I immediately looked at Edward, who looked at me, and gently advised me to stop the car and do something about my crazy animals. I floundered around the highway, dodging traffic as I swiped and snatched my bird and cat in either arm and marched back to my car, sending apologetic nods and smiles to the indignant drivers we'd held up.

It was a given that the animals would be brought back home, but when Edward told me that we had to pick up his passport at his house, despite the bumper-to-bumper traffic we were lodged in the middle of, I sighed with exasperation and lethargically made two phone calls. The first, was to the doorman of my complex; I asked him if he could kindly close and lock my door with the master key. The second, was to the airline, to let them know that I was bringing two animals with me. I was lucky that they allowed birds in the cabin, because otherwise Ptero would never have forgiven me. Edward assured me that he had a birdcage and a kennel for each of my family members, and without asking how or why, I nodded and got on my way.

When we got to Edward's, we barely had to time to explain to Carlisle and Esme where we were going. In fact, Edward didn't even have time to change out of my penis-choking jeans as he shambled into his office and resurrected a passport from beneath a pile of paperwork. Our explanation to Edward's parents as to where we were going consisted of, "Passport. Florida. Birdcage," as we burst out of the house in a similar manner to how we'd entered it, with Carlisle and Esme gawking and gaping at us with open mouths.

During the entire journey, Ptero sang from "99 bottles of beer," all the way to "7 bottles of beer," before his mind imploded into a chasm of squawks and chirps when a rather slick crow flew by. Edward had apparently snapped, and turned around to castigate the bird. I knew his attempts would be fruitless as Ptero usually found enjoyment in giving lip to those who reprimanded him. Patience had been my defense mechanism with Ptero. Edward would learn soon enough.

When we got onto the plane, Ptero was caged and hung on a small hook above Edward's seat, while Bierce Fitch was banished to the belly of the plane. Many people on the plane shot deathly glares at Edward as Ptero decided to start "99 bottles of beer" from the very beginning. I guessed that Edward was ready to break an animal cruelty law for every bottle of beer that was hit down and passed around, while I turned away and chuckled silently to myself.

Just as things were settling down after the pilot announced that we were landing, Ptero decided that the peace was a mortal enemy, and so shouted, "Bomb! Bomb!" When the air-hostess began glaring at Edward with a face that would turn skin to stone, I decided that I had to make a last resort decision and shut my bird up in a mannerly, yet rapid, fashion. I turned on my phone, as well as the flash on my camera, and took a picture of the bird's face. He dizzily fell onto the cage floor and stared at the bars for the remainder of the flight. Edward asked me why I hadn't done that sooner, to which my response was, "loyalties."

The staff and other people on the plane were delighted to see Edward and I get off. One man even said, "don't forget your parrot," while another said, "I hope bird flu returns." I took it in my stride.

We disembarked and rushed through baggage reclaim and all the other airport-related steps one had to go through to come out the other end. Soon enough, we were standing at the front egress of the airport, with the humid, tropical air suddenly pelting us with a heavy wetness. Edward said that he needed to breathe twice for every-time he'd breathe normally back in Seattle, because of the apparent muskiness of south Florida. I for one was used to it, and clicked right back in to my immunity to thick conditions. We pressed on.

We flagged down a taxi and plopped ourselves inside with a sigh. Edward vouched to never let the parrot be his responsibility again and thus took Bierce Fitch's cage on his lap while I made pointless small-talk with the driver. When we arrived, I had to stop Edward from pressing the buzzer on my parents' gates and explain a few things to him.

"I should warn you," I started, grabbing his wrist before he could give away our presence. "My mom is a little.. unique. Well, maybe not quite _unique. _Crazy is probably better. If she insults you, she doesn't mean to offend you. It's the only way she knows."

Edward pulled his wrist from my grasp. "Jasper," he drawled out, "don't cha think I've seen weird? C'mon, this is me you're talking to. I live, breathe and sleep it." He spoke to me with such resolve, which made me acquiesce, although rather apprehensively, but I still didn't allow him to press the buzzer. "Thank you for coming with me," I said, sliding my hand up his arm and pulling him into a hug. "You didn't have to do this."

Edward's hands clutched the knobs of my shoulders and pushed me from his chest and held me out in a firm distance. His mouth was dropped below his bottom teeth. "Are you crazy?" he asked, staring at my eyes. "I should be thanking you. It's my fault you're even here and you haven't even wanted to punch me yet." He smiled and kissed my cheek. "Thank _you_."

I still didn't let Edward click the buzzer until I'd felt the redness wane from my face. He nudged me, called me a wuss, and then finally gave our presence away. My mother's voice on the speaker was undeniable and I told her that it was me at the gate. She was elated, needless to say, and told us to meet her at the door. When we got there, she stood in front of my father and ran out onto the path, arms open, and emitting many screams and squeaks. "I bet she scared Aro away," I whispered to Edward before we were both choked by two arms that lassoed around us.

"[[I had no idea you were coming,]]" she blurted out. Edward shot a look at me, and mouthed, 'what did she say?' before her attention was stolen by him and she, of course, had to comment. Most likely inappropriately.

"[[And who is this?]]" she asked. "[[Jasper's new friend?]]"

Edward looked at me again and I sighed. "Yeah, he's my friend. His name's Edward." I then turned to him. "Edward, this is my mom, Clara." Edward extended his hands to her and my mother shook it for a moment until her attention was stolen by something else and she slid her hand away. Edward seemed very disorientated, to say the least.

"[[It's perfect that you came today. I just finished a new painting and you just have to see it.]]" She stole a glance at Edward, "Come Evan, you too."

"Did she just call me Evan?" Edward asked into my ear.

I shrugged and kept my false smile across my face. "Just go with the flow," I said through my teeth.

We were escorted, or rather dragged, into the house and through many re-painted rooms until we stopped in a supposed art room, which hadn't existed during my childhood. My mother pointed to a landscape painting upon an easel and her face lit up.

"[[Isn't it wonderful? It looks exactly like Skagen. Have I brought you to Skajen, Jasper?]]"

"Three times."

"[[Oh yes,]]" she blurted. "[[I remember now. But you were so young. You couldn't possibly remember. Well, it doesn't matter anyway - this looks exactly like it. Isn't it lovely?"

"I was twenty two," I sighed. "But yeah, it's pretty accurate." I was unamused by my mother's forgetfulness. How she even crossed a road without getting killed was beyond me. Hmph, how she'd given birth to a surgeon for a son was even more so beyond me.

"[[Always so rigid,]]" she moaned. "[[Live Jasper! Try new things! Don't lock yourself in your office and work all day! It gives you wrinkles.]]"

My eyes traced to Edward, and I changed languages. "[[I _am_ living and trying new things. But I didn't expect you to know that. I don't even work in an office, it's called an OR. And let's leave the medical facts to me.]]"

My mother ignored me and moved the conversation to art once again and decided to incorporate Edward into the conversation. "[[Evan, do you draw or write?]]" she asked.

"Excuse me, mrs?" he asked politely, while I squeed at his charm.

"[[Do you draw or write?]]" she asked again.

I sighed and translated. "She asked if you draw or write," I said, worn. Edward smiled and nodded slightly.

"I don't draw," he said, lifting his hands. "I tried to draw my Dad's motorbike once, but that ended up in the shredder. I do write though."

"[[you write?]]" she asked, somewhat intrigued. "[[Novels? Vignettes? Plays?]]"

I repeated her exact words in English, although I didn't understand why; she spoke perfect English. My mother enjoyed playing these kinds of games with people. She said it brought out their 'character.'

"Poetry," said Edward matter-of-factly, as my eyes shot over to him. He nodded at me and I tilted my head. I couldn't tell if he was just bullshitting to paint himself in a better light, or whether he really _did_ write poetry. I doubted it, though, as Edward could barely say what he felt at all, which was sort of the entire basis of poetry writing.

"[[Read it to me,]]" my mother pressed out, as if she'd been drained by the sun. She moved to an artsy settee and placed herself down upon it, with a hand draped over her forehead. I growled at her theatrical mannerisms.

"Excuse me?" Edward asked.

"She asked you to read some of your _poetry_ to her," I challenged.

"Ah right," he responded. "I have one, it's ugh, called "A Concept." I can't promise it's any good though."

My mother sighed and smiled slightly. "[[Entertain me.]]"

Edward nodded and I leaned back, not quite sure what he was going to come out with. Just when I thought he was going to utter an excuse as to why he couldn't conjure up anything to say, unexpected yet musical words poured from his tongue.

"You play out my dreams, my hopes,

my ideal world,

as if it is all perfect.

As if I can reach out and take it

and live this wondrous ideal,

the reason

I wake up every morning.

Yet when I taste it and step forward,

it melts away

Like cotton candy in the mouth,

technically there, but literally not.

The future deceives me;

I tell myself that it will bring my abstract aspirations,

some day

and I wait.

I always wait. And yet, they never come.

I live for waiting.

I live for ideals.

I live for the concept of something whose true form is blocked by something greater than myself, but yet,

is myself.

Does the true form exist?

Or is it _just_ a concept?"

My mother sat up from her position and watched Edward carefully for a moment, her pupils narrow. She opened her mouth to say something, stopped, looked down and opened her mouth again.

"What are you saying in it?" she asked, finally in English while Edward tugged on his collar. He licked his lips, looking at the floor, and thought for a moment. "A lot of things, I guess," he said, "Different things that run through my head."

"Like?" My mother was taking no prisoners.

"Mom, maybe you should let him keep that to himself," I suggested, intervening momentarily only to have two blue eyes shoot towards me and send a deathly glare in my direction.

"No secrets in our house, remember Jasper? We made that rule _together_."

"When I was _five_!" I growled. I turned to Edward and nodded. "How about I show you to your room? You've had that bag on since we left Seattle. Come on."

I heard my mother huff somewhere in the peripherals while I spoke to Edward, but it didn't fully register with me, as Ptero's bird cage, as well as Edward's poetry had done strange things to me indeed. My left hand was numb from the former, and my brain was ringing from the latter. Damn! I hated my mother's analogies: "People are like onions, Jasper, never forget that!" She was right about that one, for once, and I had to somewhat concede to it. _Clara Jensen 1_ - _Jasper Whitlock 1,587. _

When we got to Edward's room, which would become "our" room beyond my parents' heed, I lowered the cage to the floor as Edward did the same with Bierce Fitch's kennel. He started unbuttoning his jacket and ruffling his hair with a stretch, while I watched him attentively.

"This is a really nice place. You must've had an awesome childhood."

"Cut the crap Edward," I said sternly, stepping forward. "You wrote a poem?"

He looked at the ground. "Yeah, it was a long time ago though. I was lucky I even remembered it."

"You wrote a poem," I reiterated, to myself more so than to him.

"Yes, I did. Does that, err, bother you?"

"No," I pressed out, my eyebrow arched. "The opposite. I just, I had no idea." I tilted my head as self-dialogue took the reins of my mind. "What _was_ it about anyway?"

Edward shrugged and pursed his lips together. "Eh, don't wanna talk about it. Maybe some other time."

"Don't _want_ to talk about it, or can't_ bring _yourself to talk about it?"

"We're not here to interrogate me, alright? Don't you want to ask your Mom about the flag? That's why we're here, isn't it?"

"I suppose it is."

"Jasper!"

"What?"

"Stop talking all coded and mysterious. Are you coming downstairs?"

"After you," I said, heralding Edward to the hall as he huffed deeply.

I would find out what it meant. If it was the last thing I did.

* * *

"Oh _Edward_, you have such soft skin."

"_Edward_, your hair is so thick and wavy."

"Why can't you be more like _Edward_, Jasper?"

"Aha, oh _Edward_. You're so funny. You _must_ have a woman in your life?"

"Oh my, _Edward_, you wear your clothes so well!"

I really wanted to vomit. After my mother had heard Edward's mysterious poem, she was swooning all over him like a six year old in a nursery home. She shoved her chair right into his at the dinner table, and she sat with her chin in her palms as she watched him eat. I continually kicked her from under the table and found that I was acting exactly as Edward had been the night I'd gone to his house for the first time. After the millionth compliment shot at Edward, I nudged my mother's knee from beneath the table and she shot a frustrated look my way. I'd completely forgotten that my mother was the "I will say what's on my mind and you will listen and you will like it" type. Her face crumpled, and she huffed, "Jasper, honey, could you please stop kicking me under the table? I'm starting to bruise."

Oh, oh! _Now_ she addressed me in English. _Now_ she was ready to speak in a language that we could all understand. My mother was a paragon at mind games and she knew exactly how to make me chase my tail like a senile terrier. I growled under my breath and wiped my hands down my face with a heavy, yet quick inhalation. When my eyes opened, my mother and Edward's eyes were on me, and my father's were still on the newspaper.

"Something wrong, Jasper?" my mother asked, as I glared at her icily.

"Oh nothing," I hummed, "everything is just great. Carry on with whatever you're talking about."

My mother shrugged and turned her back to me and engaged Edward in her own, private conversation. My fingers shivered against the cutlery and even my father noticed. He patted my shoulder and said, "it's alright son, just take a breath." Even though I took his advice, my mother still took it upon herself to turn around and question me as if I had just interrupted her conversation again.

"What now?" she asked. I could smell that she was up to something. I looked at Edward for assurance whether I was imagining things or not, but when he remained naive to my mother's games, as well as to the suggestive look I shot him, I exhaled deeply.

"Really?" I asked, looking at my mother. "You don't think it's strange that I arrive here out of the blue, with a friend you've never met, when I live on the other side of the country?"

She blinked at me and her mouth turned into a circle. "What_ever_ do you mean?" she asked.

"You don't want to ask me why I'm here? Why I arrived unannounced?" My mother tilted her head and my father slowly lowered his newspaper to the table.

"Now that you mention it.." he started, before my mother shushed him and spoke in his place. "Why do you always need a reason to visit your mother? You've never changed Jasper. You always need a plan, an action, something to do! Why not just go with the wind? See where it takes you?"

"Because _Mom_," I addressed, unbuttoning the first button of my shirt. " If I didn't have a plan, or an action, then I wouldn't be able to do anything about the flag that ended up on my door this morning!"

Edward licked his lips and peered downwards while my parents scrutinized me.

"Flag?" they asked in unison, looking from each other and back to me. "What flag?"

I sighed. "Has anyone.. _strange_ been at the house recently? Has anyone who you've never seen before arrived and asked you questions about Denmark?"

My mother blinked blankly and looked to my father. "No. Not that I remember," she drew out. "Why? What's going on?"

Edward's face begged me not to answer her question with the entire truth, and so I ignored it; but for however-long my dodging game would last with her was really beyond me.

"Someone left a Danish flag on my doorstep. It's weird because I haven't told anyone about you."

"[Thanks,]" my mother muttered, and I jumped to amend.

"Not in that way, Mom. I just never got around to telling anyone."

"So why and who would leave a flag of Denmark on your door?" Her brows knitted and she swirled the liquid in her glass.

"My question exactly," I said. "I thought I'd come down to ask you if you knew anything about it."

My father peered at my from over his glasses. "Strange," he mumbled. "It's strange that you'd come all the way here only to ask us something you could have over the phone. Why else are you here?"

Edward shot me a look and I smiled unsurely. My eyes glanced out the window to confirm that we weren't being watched and I took a breath. "Because Edward and I wanted a holiday," I said, cooling down as I saw Edward breath out.

"Oh," he popped, pressing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "Well in that case, welcome home."

I nodded and turned back to my mom, careful not to put too much emphasis on the flag situation lest they became suspicious again. "So did anyone come around asking you questions? Anyone who looked, I dunno, pale?"

My mother hummed and looked upwards as if to catch a thought. Her face lit up and her finger shot into the air. Hey presto, it seemed as if she'd remembered something.

"A man from the census came around and asked us to fill out some forms. He just wanted the basics - you know, how many people in the house, nationality of the people in the house, finances, income, outcome, tax.. the usuals."

My eyes locked with Edward's and it was a mutual understanding. The census wasn't for another two years.

"Oh well I guess one of my neighbors or patients saw the family tree you put up online a few years ago. Hey, you know what? What did the census guy look like?" I asked, while Edward face-palmed himself. I knew I was shit at lying. Luckily, my mother didn't seem to notice, and she continued on, content that she was the center of attention.

"Oh I couldn't remember, sweetie. Tall, brown eyes, shaggy hair.. like most of the beach addicts in this state." She stopped and smiled. "Except, he did have a flower pinned to his shirt. A lovely little thing. Hmm, it was pink and purple.. beautiful!"

"Was it a petunia?" Edward asked ominously, not meeting my worried glare.

"Yes! That was exactly it!" my mother celebrated, her hands in the air. "See Jasper? Edward knows the names of flowers, so why can't you? I've always wanted Jasper to have taste in flowers but he never developed one. Instead he liked needles, blood and organs! Disgusting stuff!"

The ambience at the table fell cold as neither me, nor Edward nor my father spoke. Only my mother's chattering could be heard in the faint peripherals of my mind, as well as the occasional screech of cutlery against the plate. When dinner was apparently over, my mother piled all the plates into one stack and left for the sink, leaving only the males at the table. My dad packed it in and rolled up the paper and ambled upstairs, finally giving Edward and I the moment we needed.

"They were here," I cursed, crunching my fingers into my palms. "Why is my mom so stupid?"

"She didn't know," he drew out. "She said that she mentioned finances? Fuck. They tricked her. They know everything about you."

"So what does this mean?" I asked, tearing the corner of my napkin.

Edward paused. "That the bastards know a lot about you. They wouldn't have hassled you if you were from a poor family." He waved his hand across the room and shrugged. "And that's not the case."

I cursed and brought my hands to my face. "Should I tell them? I mean, what if they're in danger?"

"They're not," Edward assured, although his face was sullen and heavy from concerns that manifested in his muscles and tendons. "They only wanted to get some background on you." He stopped and sighed. "I'm sorry. I know you're sick of hearing it, but I am. I never wanted th-"

"I get it," I said. "You never wanted this, I know. You need to stop apologizing. What's happened has happened. We just have to deal with it." I didn't know where this overly-pragmatic side of me was coming from, but I shivered as I ventured into the possibility that I was, perhaps, hiding behind a defense mechanism. It was easier to deal with this whole mess by thinking of it as a complex, firmly rooted cancer that was in need of careful incisions and knifings to fully remove it. Surgeons were puzzle-fixers, and this was a puzzle. I could fix this; there was nothing to worry about. Yet, Edward was melting with worries, as he remained quiet and obstinate in his silence and sat stiffly against the back of the chair.

I got up and moved behind him, checking to make sure that my mother was still busy about the kitchen. Edward turned to look at where I was going, but when my hands met his shoulders, he cooled and exhaled. My fingers circled the muscles of his upper arms and lowered myself down and brought my mouth to his ear. "I'm not afraid of them," I whispered, kissing the side of his head. "I trust you when you say that my parents aren't in trouble." I wrapped my arms around his chest and placed my chin into the niche I had craved for so long. "Are you tired?" I asked.

"You have no idea," he replied.

I smiled and turned around towards the kitchen and announced our ascension to my mother, who quickly came pouring into the dining room, soap on her hands and face and hugged us good night. She insisted that Edward get my bedroom, since it had a bigger bed and that I retire in the spare room. I rolled my eyes and walked up with him, knowing full well that my mother's request was futile as Edward and I were destined for the same place anyway.

We fell into my room - almost tripping over Bierce Fitch and Ptero - and landed onto the bed. Edward squeezed my face between the claw of his fingers and looked at me in the eyes. He smiled in a way that depicted relief and guilt in a warring nature, and brought his lips to mine and claimed them. He kissed my jaw and then nipped at the flesh of my throat as he descended lower and to my chest. His fingers nimbly dismantled the buttons of my shirt and his hands swerved up my body as he undulated against me and bit forcefully against my lips.

"Edward," I intoned, my chest rising high. "We're not - I don't want - Oh, man."

He snaked my nipple between his top and bottom teeth and ground it roughly against the prickly surface of his tongue. My body turned to needles as his hips waved against mine and I could feel the tightness of his crotch beneath my compacted jeans up against me. I pressed out a wobbly breath and tapped my cheek with my palm to remind myself of the standards I'd set.

"Not ready," I mumbled, as his tongue swiveled around my pecs. "You, I, we can't."

"We can't?" he asked, almost mirthfully. "You mean I can't do this?"

He brought his hand to the bulge of my jeans and left it there limply, not curling his fingers. My irises cave-wide, I looked at the events down south before elevating my eyes to his. I bit my lips.

"Well, no, yes, no, not now, not yet - _mwuugh_."

He squeezed against my crotch and began sucking gently on my earlobe. "That's what you're telling me, right?" he mocked. "You're saying that I can't do _this_?" He began petting my crotch with the bulges of his palms and I had to hold my breath to inhibit a groan that would pique my mother's irrevocable curiosity. The friction of my jeans, underwear and his hands sliding over me like a black wave of pleasure was enough to shatter the smoothness of my skin and cause me to break out in goosebumps. I didn't even notice Edward opening the button of my jeans. I suddenly felt the lack of one of the heavier layers of fabric over my cock and when I looked down, I saw that that was because Edward had slipped his hand beneath my jeans, but over my underwear. I gasped loudly; I could feel the heat of his hand permeate through my crotch, and I could feel it jerk and throb beneath his now-stagnant hand.

"Edward," I panted. "Please, no. I don't want to regre-"

"Regret what?" he teased somberly, barely moving his hand. "Regret _this_?" Then, he moved it, and I swear I almost came right there and then. As I had done when going at it solo, I reached for a pillow and placed it over my mouth and breathed through it.

Holy shit! Edward was giving me a handjob; _Edward_ was giving _me_ a handjob. Even the basic idea of that was enough to push me over the edge. But when I opened my eyes and saw that it was _my_ Edward with his hands down my pants, it just didn't feel right. As his head was turned away from me, scrutinizing the source of the pleasure he was sending through my body, I realized that in that moment, he could have been anyone.

There was nothing special about this. Nothing personal. Nothing sentimental. If I wanted a handjob for the sake of it, then I could've done it myself. What he was doing to me was no better than what I had done to Emmett; except only now, I knew that Edward was doing this for me in light of what we'd uncovered about Aro, the fake census and my parents. This was nothing but an apology expressed through actions and sex.

"Edward, stop," I said soberly, wrapping my hand around his wrist. "Please."

"Fuck, it must feel good."

"Yeah, it does," I replied dismissively, "but I want you to stop."

Then, his hand did, indeed, stop and his face moved slowly to meet mine. "Why?" he asked, confusedly. "Am I doing something wrong?"

"No, no!" I said, raising a hand to his face. "You could just _look_ at me a certain way and it'd feel good," I joked, sighing when Edward's distorted expression failed to wane. "Then why are we stopping?" he asked.

I took a deep breath. "Because this.. this isn't right."

Edward tilted his head and I cursed myself.

"Sorry," I amended. "I mean, I don't want to just get each other off like we're having a fling. I know you hate mushy words and stuff but, Ed, you're starting to mean a lot to me. And before you pull that awkward face," I stopped and waved my hands in front of my body light heartedly, "just - just know that I'm not a good liar, and that I mean everything I say. I don't lead a secret life of a poet like you do. My parents say that with me, what you see is what you get. And frankly, this is me, and I have to stay true to that."

Edward nodded. "It's hard. I, ugh, think about you a lot."

I smiled and leaned forward to kiss him gently. "I think about you a lot too."

"So when?" he asked, "when will you - we - be ready, to.. you know?"

"We'll know," I replied with a half smile. "We'll both feel it." I lowered myself back onto my back, now smiling wholly, and I brought my hands to cushion the back of my head. I watched the ceiling for a moment as I heard my mother finally retire to bed and listened as the house emptied itself of all sound. There was nothing but quietness, a still and stagnant quietness that soothed me in a way that wiped away my peripheral fears and daily concerns. Just then, Edward spoke.

"Jasper?" he asked, looking at my shyly.

"Yeah?"

He paused. "I'm ready when you are."

* * *

On a final note: The Skagen painters really did exist, and so did Marie and Vibeke Kroyer. As for Edward's poem, I wanted to give you an insight into how he thinks, since we're all familiar with Jasper's crazy mind. That was a first shot at poetry writing.. I hope it was good enough :-). Thank you all again!


	13. Sobering Words

As always, thank you for reading and reviewing. You're all the reason that I'm motivated to do this.

"Gay people are born and belong to every society in the world. They are all ages, all races, all faiths. They are _doctors_ and teachers, farmers and bankers, soldiers and athletes. And whether we know it, or whether we acknowledge it, they are our family, our friends and our neighbors. Being gay is not a western invention. It is a human reality."

- Hilary Clinton.

Disclaimer: If I get sued, Jasper's mother will move in with him and Edward.

Enjoy.

* * *

"Jasper! Jasper, wake up."

"Not now Edward," I groaned. "So early."

"It's 12am. You've been asleep all day. Wake up. And what're you even doing in this bed?"

Wait, what?

I opened my eyes to see my mother's face leaning over me, probing me with blue eyes. To my left was Edward, who was snoring loudly while shirtless and his chest exposed to the air.

Busted.

"Leave before he wakes up. If he finds out you caught me in here, he'll be so embarrassed. Please, Mom." I reached and pulled the covers over his chest and signaled my mother out. She gave me the "now _Jasper_," look before rolling her eyes sarcastically and ambling out the door, a bundle of laundry beneath her arm. I sighed with relief and turned to Edward, who thankfully hadn't stirred. "Edward? Hey Edward, wake up." I gently nudged him and poked his chest but the only sign of life that was given to me was a muttering of my name: "Jasper."

I smiled like a kid and rubbed a hand through my hair. "As much as I'd like to watch you sleep, we need to get up." I pressed his arm again but he refused to awaken. I hadn't realized that he was such a heavy sleeper. It was funny because I was the polar opposite; Sofia told me that if someone in Guatemala dropped a fork, I would wake up with a jump and look for someone to operate on. On that basis, I couldn't exactly relate to Edward's deep, unbreakable slumbers. He could sleep for America, I was certain of it.

A new tactic striking me, I leaned down and brought my lips to his, pressing down so slowly that the skin stuck together for a moment. I rubbed down his chest and stroked his jaw. But it wasn't until I nipped his neck did his eyes flick open and bulge with surprise. I looked at him and smiled, and his mouth dropped a little.

"Best alarm ever," he said, his voice like a camp-fire.

I kissed his chest and smiled. "You should get used to it," I said. "It's the only way to wake you up."

Edward perched himself atop his elbows and yawned. "Shit, what time is it? Are your parents up?"

"It's, ugh." I looked at my watch. "Just after twelve, and yeah, they're up."

A line on his forehead attenuated when his brow lifted. "They don't know that you stayed here tonight, right? Shit, I don't want them thinking that we're treating their home like a hotel." He reached to the ground beside the bed and picked up his crumbled shirt and slid it over his shoulders, while I trained on his buttons and began fastening them for him.

"They don't have a clue," I said, hoping that he wouldn't catch me out on a lie. "My mother's too obsessed with her paintings and stuff to even notice us." I cleared my throat innocently.

The eye of suspicion searched me for a moment, but as I maintained my stiff smile, Edward pressed the air out from his lungs and fell back against the bed-frame. "Fhew. There's hope yet."

"Hope for what?" I asked, before he looked at me like I was stupid.

"That your parents will like me. I've never done this before and I'm shitting bricks - sideways - over of it. Hey, you know them. Do you think your mom likes me? What about your Dad?"

My cheeks were wobbling with inhibited laughter and I could hold it no longer. I spat out with a chortle and wrapped my arms around his waist. "You're adorable, Edward. Worrying about what my family thinks of you.. it's too cute."

I felt his stomach muscles tighten. "I am _not_ cute," he stated with a deep, echoey voice. Hah! And that was the fictional statement of the year! If only he could see what I saw: How his eyes went all glassy when he was confused; or how he messed around with his hair or shuffled his shoe about the floor when he was nervous; or how his lips went all red after he drank something, or how you could hear a bear-like grumble through his chest while he was laughing. Edward was a universal definition of cute - he just didn't know it.

"Oh fine," I coalesced, grinning mischievously. "I guess there _isn't_ anything cute about Octoboy."

Goosebumps prickled against my face and his chest turned pickle-like. The frisson that rumbled through his spine could be felt in the far reaches of the world, I was sure of it. "That was your fault. You picked that article, so _you're_ Octoboy," declared Edward defensively.

"_I'm_ Octoboy?" I gasped melodramatically. "Now, now, now Edward! Don't turn the tables here! There's only so much history you can try to edit!"

"Not editing anything. Your article - you chose it, the name is yours."

I chuckled with a gleeful smile and began playing with the hairs on his chest. "Fine, fine. I'll stop calling you Octoboy if you tell me what your poem was about. Deal or no deal?"

"You're a surgeon, not a salesman," he teased. "No deal."

I pinched the hairs that I'd been playing with and lightly pulled them, causing him to shriek and jerk his body. "Ouch! What was that for?" he asked, tears forming in his eyes.

I shrugged. "It was my _dream_ to be a salesman and you just _ruined_ it," I said theatrically, as if I was reciting a sob-story from a reality singing show. "I'll never be whole again."

As his hand rubbed where I had pulled, he took a deep breath and twirled me onto my back. "Not when I'm done with you," he said, charging his lips towards mine and forcing them onto me like a passionate battering-ram.

* * *

"And this was when Jasper played on the swings naked," giggled my mother as she passed a photo to Edward, despite my groveling pleas. "He was so cute back then.. I have no idea what happened since." Edward was not helping the situation at all as he fed right into the redness of my cheeks and the whiteness of my knuckles by laughing loudly at her words. I knew that my mother was doing this on purpose, now that she knew that Edward and I weren't just _friends, _and she was having the time of her life exhibiting my childhood acts of stupidity in the form of videos, kindergarten art, photos, stories, recordings, you name it. The worst part was that she could get away with all of this because of the simple fact that she knew that I didn't want Edward to know that she knew about us. Confusing? I'll rephrase:

I knew that the reason she was trying to embarrass me was because she wanted to mortify me in front of Edward, as she now knew that we were together. I could've put an end to her whole act myself by simply letting Edward in on this fact, but I knew that he would be angry if he thought that I'd told my mother about us - especially after I denied her finding out about us sleeping in the same bed. My mother knew that my hands were tied, and she whipped out every embarrassing article of oral or physical embarrassment in the freest of manners, as she knew there wasn't a thing in hell I could do about it. We exchanged knowing looks every moment or so and her Cheshire Cat grin apprised me of a mutual understanding. Poor Edward was naive to the politics of the situation, and simply took the pictures for what they were - a means for a mother to do what mothers do. Except my mother was no ordinary woman; mine had a sadistic streak where she got a kick out of my misery. It was, that being said, a common taint in both our personalities. I often suppressed one too many a giggle upon seeing my mother trip, say something stupid, or do anything that would cause her face to redden. This was all part of our 'love-hate' relationship.

"Oh, oh, Edward! I can't let you leave without showing you this _one_," chanted mother, sending me an evil look that instantly struck a chord of realization with me.

"Wait.. Mom.. Is that the? Oh no! Hell no! You are _not_ showing him that one." I leaned forward to swipe the photo from her hands, but she flicked it away from my reach. Before I could even get up to throw the picture in the shredder once and for all, it was in Edward's curious hands and fell victim to a gush of wind as he sprang forward with laughter.

"Wow, Jasper. I never took you for a cowboy," he cackled, his chest inflating. My mother's sniggering ignited the flame of revenge, yet I plopped back to my chair and realized that any further reaction was a favor to her. Edward handed the picture back to my mother, who flashed it evanescently at me and placed it back into a photo album. It was, indeed, the dreaded picture of my childhood: It consisted of me sitting atop the washing machine as if it were a horse. Of course, I was bare-ass naked save the shiny gold cowboy hat and leather boots that mother had bought me at a theme park in Orlando. The worst part was that it was clear in my expression that I was shouting, "Yee Haw," as the device began to rumble. To this day, I had no idea what possessed me to do that, and moreover, I had no idea what possessed me to allow my mother anywhere near a camera during at all. My youth would be the death of me.

"I hope you haven't done this on the washing machine at home," chuckled Edward.

"The washing machine at home has your clothes all over it," I shot back, smirking, "so no. I haven't done anything like that there. Or anywhere since that photo, either."

Edward and I both laughed together for a moment, until I was silenced by my mother's absence of remark. She was wordless, eyeing Edward amusingly, almost as if she was going to burst with whatever she had to say. I leaned back on my seat.

"_Home_?" she asked, pursing her lips together, careful as to where she was venturing. "You say it like it's a shared place."

Shit. Busted, again.

"Edward stays at mine a lot," I grumbled, giving her 'the eye.'

"And you do his laundry for him?" she asked.

Edward then interrupted, his pride in supposed jeopardy, and said, "I crashed at Jasper's two nights ago and came down with a bug.. thankfully he agreed to wash all my clothes for me." He gave me a very friendly wink and cleared his throat. "I owe him for that one."

My mother said nothing, save a mere, "Hmm," but it was apparently enough to pique Edward's doubts.

"Are you okay, Mrs. Jensen?" he asked, respectfully, as usual.

"Oh yes, fine, fine," she hummed, pretending that she was actually concerned with clearing the table when she began to do just that. When she insisted that it was cold and went to stand by the stove, I followed her suspiciously and slid up beside her.

"Impressive," I said. "You pulled some good moves. That was a pretty good attempt at cracking us, but you haven't won yet." I stuck my chin out proudly and thumbed my chest. "I'm onto you."

"Jasper.." my mother drawled out, her thick, steady and sobering tone throwing me on edge. "What's happened to you?"

Me? What's happened to _me_? I looked at my arms, hands and shoulders for a visible cut or bruise, but when I did not spot one, I tilted my head. "Erm, nothing. Why, what do you see?"

"Not _see_," she responded somberly. "_Feel_. There's something different about you. You're not the same - you're not the Jasper I know."

I scratched my head. "Huh? I'm, ugh, pretty much the same to me, I think?"

"No you're not. What happened to my baby who was scared of everything? Who doubted everything? Who over-thought everything and feared rejection at every corner?" She folded her arms tightly and blew out some air. "I hardly recognize you. You've been hardened, toughened, as if that youthful life and refreshing energy has been zapped out of you. You're not the Jasper who was in my pram."

"_Not the Jasper who was in your pram? _Yeah, I'd hope not! I've grown up, Mom. I'm not some child who's worth coddling anymore. I've got a job - a great job - and a life, and someone to share it with. Aren't you happy about that?" I asked, my voice raising.

"It's not growing up that worries me. It's how the process has changed you recently. You don't see the world with color anymore. You don't see it as I see it."

"I _never_ saw it as you saw it," I responded, leaning against the stove. "And reality check. I grew up almost ten years ago. I'm twenty seven!"

"It doesn't matter if you're twenty seven or ninety nine. You never stop growing up, Jasper. And our responsibility while on this continual journey is to stay true to who we are, and you haven't done that."

"What exactly are you saying?" I asked.

"You know what I'm saying."

"Edward?"

"Yes. He's not good for you," she said bluntly, zipping up her sweater. "I'm sure he's a good person beneath those.. complications. But he's not your type. He's too heavy, he's not who you need."

"Oh," I laughed bitterly, "and I suppose _you_ should pick who I should be with? Because you know it all! You're right about everything, aren't you? I had a feeling you'd react like this, because God-forbid I enjoy something that you can't be in control of. You're so predictable."

"Please Jasper, what kind of mother would I be if I wasn't honest with you?" She tried to force her eyes to appear genuine and sincere, but I wasn't fooled.

"A considerate one!" I snapped, biting my lips with fury. "You don't know a single thing about Edward, or what he's been through.. what _we've_ been through."

"You always speak of _reality_ and _pragmatism_ and yet you can't see what's right in front of your eyes. A pity really! I love you dearly, Jasper, and as your mother who has your best interests at heart, I can say that this Edward is just as, if not more, complex than you are. I can spot an over-thinker be it in Denmark, Florida or Washingston and I can definitely spot it in him. His type is weaved through our family, so I know that when two over-thinkers come together, the fusion is explosive. Please, Jasper, just get out of this while you can. Before the fire of this relationship burns you." She tried to stroke my cheek but I pulled away.

"How wonderfully poetic, mother. Really, a great job." I took a shaky breath. "I think we'll be going now. I'm going to pack my things. Have a good day."

Angered to the core by my mother's intrusive advice, I turned on my heels and stomped out of the room. In the dining room, Edward was sitting alone and playing with the corners of the napkin. I growled that we were leaving under my breath, but it was loud enough for him to hear me. He followed me duly and shuffled to my side, asking me what was wrong.

My jaw clenched, I said nothing as I chucked our things into the bags, placed Bierce Fitch and Ptero into their respective cages and exited the room the bedroom that Edward and I had stayed in.

"Jasper, what's wrong?"

"What happened?"

"Where are we going?"

I didn't respond to a single one of Edward's questions. Not because I was mad at him, but because I was just too mad in general. I felt invaded by mother's words and the fact she hadn't come to recant yet had enthralled my rage further. My father came ambling into the hall and, after noticing my face, asked both Edward and I what was the matter. Edward shrugged and said that he too was trying to find out. And it was then when my father sighed and said, "Clara," under his breath and disappeared downstairs.

"You have everything?" I growled. "Because we're not, ever, coming back." I began to stomp down the stairs.

"Jasper, wait. What's wrong? Just tell me."

"I _can't_ tell you," I shouted, dropping Bierce Fitch's kennel to the step. "I can't tell you because she's right - you _are_ more complicated than I am. You _do_ over-think everything and over-analyze situations. You're exactly like me in that sense and that's why I can't tell you. For your sake, I can't tell you. So get off my back, okay!?"

"Who's 'she?'" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"There's only one woman in the house Edward! Who _else_?"

"So _she_ doesn't like me after-all?" he asked.

"No!" I snapped. "No, Edward, she doesn't. And you know why? Because you're not under her thumb. If she had control over you then I'm sure she'd love you. That's the kind of person she is - she makes you think that how you live is wrong so that you suddenly question everything you do and everything you have. But I'm done with her. I'm done with her judging every aspect of my life that she doesn't have a say in." I wrapped my fingers around the kennel and pulled it up to my chest with one, long reach. "Now let's get the hell out of here."

"Maybe you should talk to her?" he suggested, placing a daring hand on my shoulder.

I turned around slowly, like a deranged animal and wobbled my jaw. "When did _you_ become Maury Povich? Did you even hear what I said? My mother doesn't like you. Why would you _want_ to stay?" I waved my free arm in his face as if he were stupid and strangely did not feel guilty for doing so.

He squeezed my shoulder soothingly, but I disallowed its effects from placating me. "I don't want you fucking things up with your family because of me," he said, pursing his lips together and giving me a sympathetic expression.

"Oh? Oh, why not Edward?" I snapped, dropping Bierce Fitch's kennel once more to the step with a shrill crash. "Emmett and I hardly speak anymore; I'm not able to walk out of my house without thinking about being shot; I won't be able to concentrate at work because I'll be worrying too much about where you are and whether or not you're safe; every time I associate with someone, I worry that I'm putting their lives at risk. Really, Edward, why stop now? Everything else has been fucked up since you came on the scene, might as well go for the home run!" I laughed hysterically and dropped my bag to the floor, feeling knives of guilt finally slice through my abdomen and throat. But something from within cajoled me to continue, as days and hours of stored up fears and worries came pouring out of me.

"Why are we even _here_, Edward?" I asked, gritting my teeth desperately. "Sure, I wanted to know that my family was okay but you were right - my dad was right - I could have found that out over the phone. So I'll ask again, why are we here? For the tropical weather? The pristine beaches? The unfazed, relaxed people? Or are we running from something that's going to follow us no matter where we go?" I lost all sight of my filters as I stared directly at him, holding his gaze intensely despite the globs that began to swirl my vision. "I'm scared, Edward. I don't want these men to hurt us, to separate us, and I just don't have any idea where to go from here - I'm lost. All my life I've wanted to have the freedom to call the shots and do things as I wanted to do them. And yet here I am, asking you to take charge. Please, Edward. I can't do this. I'm scared. I can't fight it anymore. I'm scared." I crashed to the floor with tears rolling down my face and onto my shirt. I tried so hard not to sob, but I had nothing left to tie myself back with. I wanted this mess with Aro to be over, and I wanted to be normal again. I couldn't always be the tough one after-all. It was too exhausting. Too emotionally straining.

"Come on, let's go home." I felt two arms wrap around me as I was pulled upwards and onto my feet and I quickly cleaned my eyes on my sleeve. A hand firmly placed on my lower back, I was led out of the house and onto the porsche by Edward, who went back to the stairs to fetch the cages and the bags. When he returned, he silently walked me down the street and to the nearest taxi rank where he waved down a car and escorted me inside.

The ride to the airport was deathly silent. Even the taxi-driver could smell the sour ambience and cleverly opted to say nothing. I leaned against the window and watched my breath gently fog the glass and smear the passing trees and lampposts. Edward sat in the front, chin out and head against the headrest as he tried to sleep; I could tell he was awake, however, because he wasn't yet making his sleeping face. When we got to the airport, we unloaded our belongings and headed to the gate, where we waited and waited to board.

It got to the stage that one of us had to say something. Edward must've read the same page on his magazine about fifty times and I was not much better, as I focused on the landing planes from outside the window. My mind ventured to replay what I'd said over and over and it was, in fact, all I could think about. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to openly acknowledge it to Edward and speak about it because I was afraid of hearing what he had to say. I was the stubborn one out of the two of us and would usually not speak on a basis of distastefulness. On the other hand, Edward wasn't as stubborn as I was, but he was much more apprehensive. I knew he wasn't speaking because he was worried that he would say the wrong thing. So for the second time today, there was some sort of a stalemate and I had to swallow my pride and my comfort in my silence to break it.

"I'm sorry," I sighed, nodding my head slowly from side to side. "I'm.. I didn't mean what I said. I'm sorry."

"It was about not being able to live the life that I always dreamt about because that life cannot, and does not, exist outside of my imagination," said Edward quietly, his arms slung across his legs.

I turned slowly and watched him uncertainly. "Huh?" The lines around my eyes accentuated and I took a breath. "What're you talking about?"

"My poem," replied Edward, staring at the ground. "You wanted to know what it was about, and that's it."

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked.

"Because you deserve to know," he drew out, licking his lips. "I know you're sorry for what you said back at your parents' place, and I don't doubt that, but fuck, I can't sit back and watch my situation chip away at you. You were holding me together since Aro threw me in your door and I never gave you a second to think about everything that's happened." He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled harshly. "I hate that it never occurred to me to let it all sink in with you, and all I can say is that I'm learning here. I'm making mistakes, and I don't realize things because this is new to me. But in the taxi, I was thinking about what you said, and I started thinking long and hard about something." My diaphragm pruned a little as a pained expression washed over Edward's pale face while his teeth raked across his swollen, red bottom-lip. "You _are_ the life that I've always dreamed of living, and you've proved that it doesn't just exist in my mind. So if you want out of this.. If this is too much for you, then please Jasper, just walk away now. I can tell Aro that we don't speak anymore. And once he sees that that's true, he'll leave you alone for good. These are my debts, not yours. Fuck, you've done enough for me already - you're my evidence, and I don't want to destroy you. Let me get on this plane right now and you stay here in Florida."

I stood up and stomped my foot on the floor. "You don't get give me some speech about how much I mean to you and how you don't want to hurt me. I'm not a prisoner, Edward. I know I can walk out on this whenever I want to, but that's not an option. I already blocked that idea from my mind and it's not happening. Yeah, this whole thing is just hitting me now and yeah, it makes me feel trapped. Do you know why? Because I have only one option here: Stay with you, and get through this." I pressed every last bit of air from my lungs and took a muscle soothing inhalation. "I didn't get concussions, eat blowfish and dream about you for months only to turn on you now. Get a grip, octoboy, because I'm not going anywhere."

Edward's eyes were like jupiters and they probed me gloriously, like bubbly emeralds searching me for a response beyond language. I nodded from side to side and half-smiled somewhat heavily before a familiar set of lips came crashing onto my face and I leaned backwards. My mouth, my cheeks, my forehead and my chin were all lauded by Edward's passion as his hands pressed me into his lips and caressed me as if tomorrow was day's end.

"I've never asked you this yet," said Edward, drawing his lips away from mine slowly, "but, ugh, would you mind being.. ugh, shit.. Could you be? No! Balls! Jasper, what I'm asking is.." He slapped his head and bit his lips. "Do you want to be my, ugh, you know.. ugh.."

"Boyfriend?" I asked.

"Yeah," he responded. "But I promise, I won't push you up against walls or speed you down highways - even if you say no." There was a hint of sincerity to those words, despite supposedly being humorous and I grinned widely and licked my lips. My insides like jelly, I kissed Edward as hard as he'd kissed me and said,

"Consider yourself taken."

"For real?" he asked.

"For real," I responded.

We heard our names called on the intercom during the time we were making out publicly and we had to do the walk of shame up to the boarding desk to embark the plane to Washington. Needless to say, I fell asleep on top of Edward for the entire duration of the flight and the fact that his arm was wrapped 'round my shoulder delayed my concerns for the affairs dwelling 20,000 feet below us. For another few hours, we could feel safe and free from the watchful eyes that scrutinized us at every moment of our days since Aro's return to the scene. For now, there was peace.

* * *

I cannot lie and say that over the next few weeks, my openly expressed fear of Aro and his men mitigated to any degree of comfort. It wasn't a case where I woke up one day and decided that I was no longer afraid of them. Nope, not like that at all. Instead, it was more of a case where I learned to just deal with glancing over my shoulder while walking through town or watching every face in a crowded area to make sure Aro was not around. And yeah, many would argue that paranoia was not the basis of a happy life, but take it from me, you'd be surprised how far simple pleasures can pull you through the flames life's obstacles. Counting down the days from Monday to Friday when Edward and I would go to the movies, was a highlight that kept my spirits from crashing. I realized that my life was very much reliant upon short term moments of escapism that would give me just about the drive to wake up and face the unknown of each day.

Well, I made it out to be much worse than it was. Yes, Aro was part of our lives and he even paid us visits just to play with our minds from time to time. He'd nuance a threat just subtly enough to send a frisson through our spines hours after he left. But the coming weeks didn't prove to be all doom and gloom. I confronted Emmett over what he said to Edward that time while I was recovering in the hospital, when he said, "you should give up now, Jasper's with me." And at first, he denied saying it outright, but after I gave him 'the eye,' he came around and told me that it was just a joke, before he then dove into asking me whether I was technically still single or not. As usual, I couldn't make heads or tails of why he wanted to know such a thing, and I shrugged before leaving to meet Sofia for lunch.

Sofia had finally been freed from the services of the surgeon who'd kept her working long, abusive hours for almost a month straight. She expressed how she never wanted to see the inside of an OR ever again, and that she was missing Spain, and her family greatly. I assured her that if she longed to speak Spanish once again, that Ptero was always at her disposal when/if she needed him. I didn't spend too long with her because it was clear that she wanted to get home and sleep for Europe. I left shortly after, and saw her only sporadically throughout the month.

As for my boyfriend, Edward, he was very much on the same boat as I was. He worked hard to keep money coming in to pay off the ridiculous weekly payments to Aro. And when things quietened down on the weekends, we'd spend our nights kissing on the sofa until 3am while watching cheesy 80s soap operas and chuckling at their corniness. We still hadn't gone past kissing. Ugh, did I really need to elaborate? I _did_ plan to take it a step further with Edward - really, I did - but I never seemed to find the right moment to show him a night of heated romance. And because I was about as romantic as Pterodactyl's bird droppings, I was struggling to find this 'right moment' to carry out my plan. [Insert Edward's "Concept" poem here, because frankly, the title describes our sex life, or lack of.]

In any case, each day brought a new wave of obscurity to my future. Would we ever pay Aro back? Would he ever act on one of his suggested threats? Was he always watching us where-ever we went? Were Carlisle and Esme being watched as much as we were?

It wasn't entirely _clear_ to me.


	14. A Bitter Pill To Swallow

Hello again! I have been up the walls this month, but of course, that didn't prevent me from updating with another Morphine chapter! That being said, I do apologize for the wait. I try to update as frequently as possible for you avid followers and readers, but work can catch up to me often. Oh, and on that point, have I thanked you for all the reviews/subscriptions/PMs etc? Well thank you all - as always - for expressing an interest in my story.

Finally, a disclaimer: The spelling mistakes in Sofia's dialogue are intentional for accent purposes, and since Sofia doesn't exist in Twilight, it's because, well, this isn't Twilight. Just sayin'.

Enjoy!

* * *

"I wanna to go further, Jasper."

"What're we waiting for?"

"You're my partner Jasper, c'mon, it's been months now."

So maybe I was dragging it out a bit. Maybe it was time to finally give a little more of myself to Edward. Maybe he was ready. Maybe I was ready. Or maybe I just thought I was ready. Maybe I wasn't ready at all. Maybe I was terrified. Maybe..

Ugh.

Maybe I was over analyzing things again. My mother would be proud to see me like this, fretting and worrying over whether I was making all the right choices in my relationship with Edward or not. I had made it very clear to him that although he wasn't the first guy I'd ever been with, he was the first guy I'd been with on a serious level. That being said, I hadn't exactly been with many guys in a general sense either, but I was still the more experienced one out of the two of us as Edward had never been with any guys, at all, before me. For me to be the 'experienced' one, wasn't exactly saying much. It was like a first grader showing a kindergartner the ropes around a school. Neither of us were in a position to take lead, but because my minimal exposure to male-on-male relations amounted to more than Edward's, I assumed the role of chief in instigating anything of a sexual nature between us.

Speaking whole-heartedly here, I was a little nervous about the whole thing; even more-so than Edward was. Although Edward's history was completely devoid of male romance, he had at least been with women relatively frequently, prior to the night when I had dinner at his place. His hinges were at least somewhat greased, whereas mine.. well, mine were about as dry and barren as the Sahara Desert. If you asked me, _Edward_ was the one who should have been guiding _me_ through the steps of an intimate relationship, but this was one of those things that existed in the air around us; something that dwelled in vibes and nuance that I couldn't openly acknowledge without breaking the mould too extensively and sounding a bit like my mother - or in other words, with the fairies. I was the tour-guide of our sex life, and that was that.

The thought of being completely bare and naked in front of someone else made me feel as if I was due to break my neck and fall down unfathomable mental heights. I mean, think about it - no clothes, no coverage and all your parts there for someone to see. Sure, it was Edward, and I certainly didn't mind seeing _his_ parts, but I was just a little self conscious about how I looked without clothing of any kind. This was what happened to me during long intervals between sexual encounters. On a summarized note: I was sexually frustrated - so much so, that I was my own cock block.

But beyond my frustrated ways was the fact that I took sex very seriously. Growing up with a crazy mother had made me reluctant to share myself with many people, and the fact that I didn't have many friends around me was reflective of that. To actually dismantle all my insecurities and those factors that made me nervously over-analyze and fret over things, would mean that I would be more than just physically bald, but emotionally bald also. I was, quite literally, scared of baring that much of myself at once to one person and it was on this basis that I was apprehensive to give into Edward's pleas. To finally have make love with him would mean that I would be giving every part of myself to him, and well, I just wasn't sure if I was ready to do that just yet.

So how could I explain all of this to Edward without sounding completely and utterly insane?

My excuses were getting a little lame; Edward was getting tired of hearing "I'm not ready yet" and when he pushed me for a further explanation as to _why_ I wasn't ready yet, I had to quickly fabricate a new excuse and convince myself of its validity in order to wholly convince him. I almost began to dread nighttime because I knew that it would end with Edward becoming just that little bit more frustrated with my excuses and ultimately sleeping on the other side of the bed to me. I chose to show Edward affection minutes after my buzzer would go off, so that he wouldn't have time to ask me if we could 'bring it a step further' before I'd grab my keys and scurry off to work. I was very strategic.

I never said 'yes' to Edward's request to go steady back in the airport in vain, however. I did, at one stage, plan to do the inevitable with him. The question was _when_ would I be in a position to go through with it? In Edward's mind, he must've been fearing the word 'years,' whereas in my mind, it was more-so a matter of 'any moment.' It was as if I was climbing all the way up to a diving board and then calling it quits just before I jumped off. Edward meant the world to me, there was no denying that, and there was nothing he could do about my apprehension since it was my flaw; frankly, these restrictions were 100% my problem and our situation was very much based around the 'it's not you, it's me" cliché.

I brought my hand to rake through my hair and I took a deep breath. My head felt foreign for a moment and I remembered that I'd agreed to cut it at Edward's behest. He went to the hairdressers with me and practically dictated the entire procedure. The poor girl who cut my hair was afraid to clamp the scissors without a nod of approval from Edward. He was pleased with the result, and told me that he preferred the look. My sides were significantly shorter and were noticeably so against the remaining length on my crown, which came across the apex of my head and joined a tangle of tossed waves upon my scalp. I usually just tossed it all to one side and was done with it, but Edward apparently preferred this new style. And with him as the only person I was interested in impressing, I was happy with it once he was happy with it.

After having been on my feet for hours upon end, doing 'the rounds' and meeting patients for consultations, I settled into a cold plastic chair and shifted in it a few times to get comfortable. I tilted my head back, closed my eyes, and had just about drowned out the murmurs of voices and clunks and clatters of the trays, tools and files when a deep, echoey voice arrested me and sent awareness through my body like an earthy fog horn.

"All staff, can I get you attention please?" said the voice, striking a note of familiarity with me. I opened my eyes and blinked a few times and got up to join the crowd of nurses, surgeons, residents, interns and other members of the hospital hierarchy. On my tip-toes, I craned my neck to look over the crowd to see who sought our attention and I held my breath for a moment when I saw that it was the chief of surgery.

"Everybody.. Hello, yes, thank you. Can I get some silence please?"

A hush brushed across the assembly, and quietness, save the occasional clack of hospital equipment or the sporadic chirp of a buzzer, filled the hallway.

"Good. I would like for you all to welcome Dr. Stein," said the chief, signaling to a short, dusty man who appeared to be in his late 50's and wore a recognizable pair of thick, black glasses. A murmur spread throughout the crowd but we were hushed once again by the chief's voice.

"Dr Stein has been observing the hospital recently. He's looked at each and every one of your records, your patient feedback, your contribution to the hospital and the hours you've put in. I think it's fair to say that he and I were both impressed by the results that were filed and that -" Looking over at the man to his side, the chief half smiled and wiggled his head. "Well, why don't I just pass this over to him?" He stepped graciously to the side and allowed the small man to face the crowd, clear his throat and fix the positioning of his large glasses.

"Hello doctors, my name is Dexter Stein and I am the hospital's financial advisor," he announced, his voice nasally.

Whispers spread through the gathering once more, but a "shh" from the chief quickly silenced us all. The nurses in front of me were glancing at each other uncertainly, as if to suggest that they knew what was going to be announced. Words sighed from the people behind caught my ear and my stomach tensed.

"They're making cuts," said a male nurse to his friend.

"They're letting go of us," said a blonde intern, to a tall male resident.

"We're being sacked," said an English nurse, as a hand came to cover her eyes.

I gulped and tuned my ear back into the satirical speaker, craning my neck to view him without obscurity.

"As your chief said, I've been observing your efforts as employees in this hospital and yes, I was, and am, very impressed." He licked his lips and raked his bottom teeth across his upper lip and his fingers slipped across the cover of a blue file entangled in his hands. He cleared his throat with his fist against his mouth and took a slow breath.

"But unfortunately with the current economic crisis and the recent fiscal cliffs, the hospital lost a quarter of its government funding. From this funding, the hospital was able to pay each of you the wages you earned and deserved."

The faces amidst us common folk were bleak and groups of interns, who'd been together since day one of their trials, glanced at each other with looks of hopelessness and pre-devastation.

Dr Stein jiggled his tie and cleared his throat again. "I deeply regret to announce that due to these cuts, the hospital is no longer in a position to maintain its current number of employees in each sector of its labor force, and so, even though it pains both your chief and I greatly, we have had to make cuts with our interests lying in the long-term survival of the hospital." The chief and the spokesman exchanged a regretful nod before Dr Stein slid his glasses back up the trunk of his nose with one finger. "I'm afraid that if I call your name, you need not continue working at the hospital. If you are not called, you may go back to work."

My eyes surfed through the crowd and sought the face of a particular person. As I sifted through miscellaneous colleagues, my attention fell upon Sofia, who had already spotted me with fearsome pupils. She nodded slowly from side to side, her face equally forlorn and hopeless, as it was acceptive and stoic. I shot her a look and mouthed, 'you have nothing to worry about' before I brushed my shoulders with my knuckles and sent her a wink. She smiled, but her expression did not wane and she blew me a kiss.

"... Sarah-Jane Parker, Candice Whales, Martin Johnson, Irene McMargins."

I moved my gaze from Sofia to a face that may as well have seen a ghost, as Irene stood in a clearing in the group with her mouth open and her hands limp by her sides.

"B.. but, I've worked here for 47 years!" she called out, flashing her name-tag. "I've seen five chiefs come and go and I was working here since before he was born!" She pointed at the chief and wiped her eye. "You can't do this," she said. "This place is my home."

Neither of the men replied, presumably hoping for the crowd's noise to drown out the woman's pleas, but when we all remained quiet and awaited a response to the lady who'd worked here since before most of us even existed, the men looked at each other and the chief spoke.

"I'm sorry Irene," he said, his eyes caught beneath the light. "Really, I am. But you've been here for so long now and we just thought that it was maybe time you'd call it a run and bow out. Please, it pains me to the core to see you go, but this is what has to happen. I am very, very sorry."

"Shove it up your ass!" she called, her voice breaking as tears fell down her face. "I.. I have nowhere to go! This hospital is where I spend all my time. I live alone, I have no-one else. Please, please, you can't do this."

The pained expression that carried itself on the chief's face was unmissable, and he looked at Dr Stein as if to enquire whether there was something he could do to keep her, but when he received a nod in response, his shoulders dropped and he took a slow breath. "I'm sorry, Irene. I wish you all the best."

Then, the hands of the other nurses gently escorted Irene out and her exit was marked by a melody of sobs that became more and more faint until all was silent again. I gulped and looked back at Sofia, suddenly unsure about everything. I mean, Irene!? She'd been there since the hospital opened up - she predated us all and was almost a living artifact of the establishment, and yet, they let her go. I shouldn't have cared that she was rejected, I mean, she'd put me through hell and back more times than I could count, but for some reason, I felt a little raw, prickly, and uncomfortable with the thought of her foreseeable absence. My hand came to my mouth as a streak of panic shot through me and I eyed Sofia from the other side of the crowd - we mutually understood each-other's paleness.

"And now the general surgery department," continued Stein, turning the page of his file. "Dr. James Allen, Dr. Theresa Merryman, and Dr. G. Hubbard," he stopped and took a breath. "Oh and.. Dr.."

I shut my eyes and tensed my stomach.

".. Jameson. Anybody else in this department may go back to work."

My shoulders must've elevated to heaven as the most poignant air of relief filled within me while I gasped for a breath. "Thank god," I pressed out, calming myself down. My relief was cut short, however, as the doctor's words cracked through my nerves when he said,

"And now, the interns."

Sofia's brown eyes clung to mine and, despite the worry that glimmered and danced in her pupils, I continued to mouth 'you'll be just fine' and act somewhat as if I wasn't even fazed by the situation. I thought back to all the work she'd done recently and used it as a way to root myself in certainty and assure myself that, in light of all her hard work over the past few weeks, she would be rewarded with retaining her job.

"Dr. Marie Ororo," started Stein, adjusting his glasses and ignoring the yelp from the person of that name in the crowd. "Dr. Christopher Yelmen, Dr. Jaymie Dunsworth, Dr. Abigail Tenure.." I smiled and said, "see?" with my lips to Sofia. But just when I did so, just when she'd started to believe me, I was interrupted by an untimely announcement that crumpled my innards. "Dr Sofia Rodriguez Arguelles. Our sincere apologies."

Sofia sniffed and cradled herself gently while I stood, shaking uncontrollably and watching the duo at the front of the crowd with anger, regret and guilt. Did they know what they were doing? Did they even realize who they were willing to get rid of? My mind one-tracked and my focus narrowed, I shoveled through the crowd and cleared my way to the front, where I watched both men attentively in the eyes and held back the impulse to spit on them both.

"Do you even realize what you're doing?" I growled, shaking my fist at them and curling my lip. "Have you even read Sofia's file? She's the best intern this hospital's ever had and she's the best damn chance we have at keeping a high level of medicinal practice here. You must've made a mistake, you must've read the wrong name?"

Stein and the chief eyed each other for a moment before a folder was opened, unclipped and searched, before my fears were bolstered by confirmation. "Sofia Rodriguez Arguelles, yes, there's no mistake here. Excuse me, Dr..?"

"_Whitlock_."

"Dr Whitlock." He cleared his throat. "How does the employment status of this woman affect you in any way?"

I learned today that neither patience, nor the ability to deal with or dismantle pompous personalities was inherent in me.

"How does it _affect_ me? This woman happened to be on my services - I _know_ how hard working she is, and I'm not prepared to lose her to some cheap accountant who pretends to be a doctor!"

"Dr Whitlock!" chided the Chief, stepping - in vain - to escort me out of the hallway as I eluded his touch.

"I assure you," replied Stein quietly. "All cuts were made in the interest of the hospital, the patients and the existing staff. You should consider yourself lucky that you are not going home today."

"Please!" I growled, shaking my fist. "Don't even insult the patients by pretending you're working for them. If you were, then you wouldn't be firing the best intern to ever walk through the doors of this joke of a hospital!"

Just then, a hand placed itself atop my shoulder and I was slowly tilted sideways, although my eyes remained on Stein and the Chief. "It's over Jasper, let's go," said Sofia, thumbing my shoulder blades in circular motions. "It's okay, there's nothing you can do."

"Why do you sound like that?" I asked her, turning around. "Why do you sound like you've given up? They've made a mistake and when they realize what they've done, it'll all be normal again."

She looked at me in a way that zapped the energy right out of me, as if the fuel of my franticness had been sucked right out of me and I turned around, wholly, and clutched her hand. "Don't let them do this," I pleaded, clamping my tongue between my lips and letting go again. "Don't let them get rid of you."

"Jasper," she said, calmly and resolutely. "I knew this was going to happen. It is okay. I made peace with it. I'm happy."

"You _knew_?" I gasped. "How could you _know_ they were going to fire you?"

"My sweet Jasper." She brought her hand to caress my face and I melted into her touch, my decorum in shards. "I knew for weeks. It started as a whisper, then a rumor, then a secret, a truth and now, a reality."

"Why didn't you say something? I could've helped you, put in a good word!"

"You've already helped me," she said, stroking my face. "You have taught me more than you know."

"But I can fix it, I can fix this. Just let me speak to them."

Sofia nodded and led me down the hall and out the main entrance of the hospital. The cold nipped the redness in my eyes and etched the salt into my cheeks while my breath clouded around the lanes beyond my mouth. Rubbing her hands together, Sofia placed her fingertips in her coat pockets.

"Some things, Jasper, you cannot fix. Some things just happen, and they can be sudden or they can be gradual, but either way, they still happen and there's isn't always a solución - there isn't always a cure. I heard that my name was on the list of fired interns and I even glanced at the page last week when the chief left it on his desk. I knew if I tolded you, Jasper, that you would try and fix it and would become angry at yourself if you failed. That's why I said nathing. But I knew, mi querido, I always knew and I am lucky because I have had time to think about it."

I shook my head. "And what's _thinking_ going to do, Sofia? Thinking isn't going to get you an income and pay your bills. This isn't a time to call me Jasperito and have a nice shot of tequila. This is real, and we have to deal with it."

"I've already dealt with it."

"How? What have you done to possibly make this better?"

"I'm leaving," she said, pulling her collar around her neck. "I am here because of my work visa, but I no longer work, so I organized to return to Spain and maybe work as a doctor there and help mya family."

I laughed bitterly and rolled my eyes. "Yeah right. What have you really done?"

"I already told you."

"You're serious?"

"Si."

I stopped in my verbal tracks and stared at the floor. It was beginning to snow and small semi-frozen droplets began to decorate Sofia's long brown hair and the shoulders of her black coat. I waited for a moment to say something and just allowed my stomach to pulse as I bit my lips and squinted my eyes.

"But what about Edward and I? Emmett? And Ptero?"

"Jasper." She rubbed my shoulder but I remained stiff.

"You can't go," I said. "You can't leave us. You're like our family now."

"And I will continue to be," she responded. "And you will see me again. Soon, I am sure."

"How soon?"

"As soon and often as we make the time."

For a moment, when all that could be heard was the screaming and shouting of laid-off doctors, nurses and interns from inside the premises, Sofia and I simply stared around each other, as if we'd be staring at anything else. I remembered how she curled into my side and purred, "Mr Wheetlock," so that she could be on my services, and I remembered how she saved me from, well, my own anti-social self when she insisted that I meet her in that bar the day we met. I remembered that it was because of her that I met Edward, and I remembered back to how many realities, like him, that she had made true by simply being in my life. I wiped away a faint tear discreetly, aware that I had spilled far too many tears recently, and sniffed as masculinely as I could while shuffling my hands about my pockets.

"Edward's pride has rubbed off on you," she said, suddenly breaking the invisible wall and wrapping her arms around me tightly. "Don't hold back around me." The spicy smell of her perfume - a scent I hadn't smelt since the night I'd met Edward - sent surges of flashbacks through my mind and I was struck by nostalgia, absence, uncertainty, and a pinch of dread.

"I can't stick around without you, Sof. I feel naked right now. Who'll be there to help me when I get shy? You gave me so much confidence, and now you're leaving."

"No, Jasperito, you gave _yourself_ confidence. I just gave you a little push."

"But-"

"Pero ¿qué? You're not alone like when I met first met you," she reminded, her hand returning to my face and touching it gently. "You have Edward now, and he'll look after you. I am just lucky enough to have played a part in your story." She smiled with her face angled and I took a deep breath. For some reason, I felt as if I was back at my first day of school and walking way from my mother (or in my case, my father) and into the big bad world, without a crutch to lean on, or a nest to flee back to.

"Is this what you want? Do you want to leave?" I asked, disallowing my voice to crack.

"I never planned to stay here forever," she said, her hand now at my shoulder. "I always hoped to go back to Spain and help children on the streets who are like me when I was their age. I was staying because of my job here, and because of the people I'd met, like you." She smiled to make me feel better, but I couldn't hold back any longer and I allowed a tear to fall and dent the padding of snow on the floor. "But now, I have seen you and Edward together and what you both have is wanderful. I don't need to worry about you anymore. And now that I have no job here either, home is where I should go. Home is where I belong."

"Your home is with us," I said, wiping my face. "You can stay with Edward and I, we'll give you everything you need. You won't need to leave."

She smiled in a way that told me that my attempts were fruitless and I sighed hopelessly and shoveled my foot into the snow. "W.. when would you leave?" I asked, my tone descending.

"As soon as I go to the airport. I packed my things weeks ago and I will buy a flight when I'm there."

"Don't you want to say goodbye to Edward and Emmett?" I asked, sniffling.

"I wouldn't like to make this harder for you and them. Please, just tell them that I love them, that I'm thinking of them both and that they will see me again."

"Oh. Ok." I curled my bottom lip into my mouth.

"Since the day I met you," she said, taking a step closer. "You have been a good friend to me."

"B..But Sofia.." I descended my head and tried to breathe in as slowly as I could, to not give away the rumbles and vibrations through my back. Won't you miss us?" I asked. "Don't you want to stay here?"

"Of course I'll miss you, Jasperito. But I'm not sad that I am leaving you, Edward, Emmett, this city, the hospeetal.. I'm just happy it all happened. There are things here I would like to stay for - to see more - but it's time for me to go home, back to where I belong. My Jasper.." She trailed off and poked a tear away with her fingernail and smiled. "Look how much you've changed? You are quite the man now."

My bottom lip began to bobble and I bit it sharply, only to have the sensation move to my cheeks and the muscles in my eyes. "When are you planning to leave.. for the airport?"

"Soon," she said. "I will go home, get my things first." The wind howled past us and the snow came to a sudden halt. The sound of the wheels scraping against the snow with a rubbery friction crackled in the background, all while a murder of crows cawed from the telephone posts above. I thought that the sudden silence all around me reflected something that I felt from within. It was something that struck a chord with me, a symphony of sadness and estrangement - a link between the loneliness I felt before I met Edward, and the meaning and purpose I'd found after. Remember when I said that although I lived in a metropolitan city of over 4 million people, I still felt isolated and distant from those around me? I felt a piece of that once again as Sofia stood before me, with her passport entangled around her fingers. First, I had nobody - save Emmett and my two animals - and then I had Sofia, then Edward and then even a cameo from my mother. But despite the growth of people in my life, it appeared as if I was going backwards - back to how I was before, with the only numbers on my phone being Emmett's and the local plumber's. My mother may as well have walked out of my life after what she said about Edward, and now Sofia was leaving too. It was only a matter of time before Emmett would meet a girl and run off with her. Hell, he'd probably ask to take Ptero with him. That would leave Edward and Bierce Fitch; and the latter would shrivel up and wither away without her love-hate relationship with the bird to keep her young and senile.

So that really did leave just Edward.

Sofia moved in and hugged me one last time but it wasn't until I felt her hands on my back did the impulse to wrap my arms around her strike me. It was like hugging your 80 year old grandmother who you felt every moment with was a fragile blessing; I knew this was the last I would touch her, feel her presence, smell her scent and relax in her company. She was the mat swept from beneath my feet; the crutch pulled from under my reliant shoulder, and the training wheels snapped off from the back of my bike. I was suddenly that college student walking away from his parents at the airport; that kid who realizes that he is now in control of the car; and that teenager who finds that he is now responsible for his own bills, debts and bank accounts. I felt like I was standing in the middle of a frozen lake, with no specific path proving any safer than the other. I was exposed - larger than life, but scared of its enormity all-the-same.

"Y.. you'll stay in touch, won't you?" I asked, my teeth carving into my tongue.

"You'll be sick of me," she joked, laughing through a broken voice. She turned around gracefully, took a deep breath and pushed it out, allowing her shoulders to perk into position and straighten her frame. She gave me one last smile and said, "Somethings you can't fix, Jasper. Somethings are meant to be and they will happen regardless of how much you resist them." She turned around and began to walk away, leaving grey footprints upon the clear blanket of snow that had accumulated during each bout and surge of emotion that had trickled through my core.

All I knew, as I stood there amidst the falling droplets, was that I didn't want to be alone anymore.

* * *

It was dark by the time I got home and I entered by slapping my keys onto a table beside the front door and moved to the fridge to swallow a mouthful of orange juice out of the carton. Rubbing my eyes, I called out for Edward as loudly as I could, but I heard no response. I yawned and ambled to the bedroom, unfastening my heavy watch from my wrist and jiggling my tie from my neck and down to the base of my throat. From the reflection in the mirror, I could see that my hair was disheveled and my jaw was prickled by a lazy invasion of stubble.

Our bedroom was dark but from the lumps and curdles in the duvet, I could tell that Edward was lost somewhere beneath its thick fabrics. I moved and turned up the lights to a low dim and saw that his body was wrapped around the blankets as a child would clutch a teddy-bear, and his mouth was open in a way that managed to make me smile.

I poured my watch onto my beside-table and lowered myself gingerly onto the bed with a long sigh. My presence stirred Edward ever-so slightly and he wiggled towards my unconsciously and grumbled, "Zchasper? M'iz that you?" My smile stretched slowly and my chest hiccuped and a small chuckle escaped me. I slipped down the bed-frame until I was at his level and my face centimeters from his. "Yeah, it's me," I said, just over a breath.

His weary eyes creaked open to look at me and when he had apparently confirmed my presence, his red lips parted and exposed his sharp jagged teeth. "I misshed you," he said, shuffling closer. "Mmsh where were you all day?"

"At work," I said quietly, moving an inch closer. "How was your day?"

"Mmokay," he yawned. "Got paid for overtime."

"That's great." I moved closer again until I could feel the warmth on his skin radiate onto mine and I brought my eyes to look right through his; his dark, rick emerald irises.

"Edward," I said, inching closer and closer, my eyes lost in his. "I want you to move in with me."

The bleariness in his eyes subsided and I was met with orbs that searched me for seriousness. "You want that?" he asked.

"Yes. And I want you to relax." I pushed his shoulder away from me so that he was on his back and I slowly poured myself on top of him and gazed into his eyes once again.

"What're you doing?" he asked again, his eyes crusted in the corners from sleep. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I can't always fix what's broken," I replied, moving down and brushing my lips against his. "But I can stop them from breaking in the first place."

"Jasper, are you-?"

I kissed his lips again while he was mid-sentence and felt his voice diminish in my mouth. I pecked his lips so gently that it tickled my nerve endings and I slowly and softly drew them across his jawline, down his neck, across his adam's apple and down into the gap between his collarbones. A gasp heralded my intended reaction and I took it as permission to rub my hands against his pecs, as I trailed lower and lower.

I snatched his nipple between my teeth and ground it against the prickly surface of my tongue. It turned rocky and pink and transformed alongside the tensing of his abs, which were shadowed by light dustings of hair that traveled between the valleys of his lower muscles. My arm around him and refusing to let go, I licked his abs up and down and slid back up to his nipple again, cupping his bicep with my left hand.

"J- Jasper, are you.. sure? Are you.._Ugh_, shit."

"I want to be near you," I whispered, sitting up and sliding my shirt from over my head and pressing my chest against his and capturing his earlobe in my mouth. "I want to be close to you."

"You _are_ close to me.. _fuck_."

I smooched him in a southern direction and kissed my way down - again, as I had done before - only this time, I stopped at his happy trail when his hand clasped the crown of my head.

"You're ready?" he gasped, his chest heaving.

I said nothing and simply took his hand and laced my fingers in it and licked my lips. My mind - once again - one-tracked and focused, I unfastened the strings of his pajamas, pulled them off and was met by his throbbing cock for the first time in person. He was already hard and when I wrapped my fingers around it and Edward almost professed the end right there and then. I kissed his stomach and told him to relax, my words having the appropriate effect on him.

I grabbed it at the base and wrapped my lips around the head, swiveling my tongue around the sensitive areas. Edward's hips buckled and jerked, and his hand pressed against my head as his body elevated. Then, without any other thought crossing my mind, I pushed my mouth down on his member and he cried out in pleasure.

My nose nestled into his pubes when his head stabbed my throat and he practically shrieked and pulled the pillow over his mouth. I could taste him leaking in my mouth and I continued on stoically, drawing my tongue and lips across his base. I tugged on his balls just hard enough to make him squeal and I would have pinched them a tad harder had his abs not popped out as far as possible and his cock started to throb like a pulsating traffic light.

"Jasper, I'm gonna.. _ugh_.. I'm gonna.. cum. I'm cumming."

An explosion of fluid burst into my throat with a salty eruption. Stroking him from the base to the head, I squeezed everything out while Edward moaned loudly, cried-out and tore his fingers into the duvet cover. I drew my hand across his chest and smeared it with his seed before sliding up beside him with a deep breath, while he panted and heaved for air.

"What the - that was," he stopped and gasped. "Amazing."

I looked across the room and saw that almost every pillow had been tossed to various ends of the wall and the lamp, book and watch that were on the bedside table had been knocked off. I stole a glance at Edward, who was still trying to catch a breath and I curled into his side, inhaling his masculine, sporty scent.

I was about to close my eyes when my name was said and I drew them open again, not saying a word.

"You were.. ready, right? I didn't force you?"

"You didn't force me," I said, dancing the tips of my fingers along his chest. "I just.. I love having you here with me."

"I love being with you," he responded.

A brief silence befell us and I continued to play with the hairs on his chest and nipples.

"Edward?"

"Yeah?"

"Sofia left today."

He sat up against the bed-frame and looked at me with expected confusion. "What do you mean she left?"

"She lost her job today, and she's going back to Spain because of losing her work visa."

"What?" he questioned, his body still inhaling heavily from the orgasm, but his face wide. "There's tons of ways around that! I'll call her now." He reached for his phone in his trousers beside the bed. "We can sort this out."

I stopped him by wrapping my fingers around his wrist and nodding from side to side. "She's gone, Edward. She's right to leave. Spain is her home - the only thing keeping her here was her job, and now that that's gone, she's doing what's right for her."

Edward's brow knitted. "Yeah? And what about us?"

"We've got each other," I said. "You've got me, always, and she knows that. She knows I'll be alright with you."

Edward deflated and sank back down the bed frame, wrapping an arm around me when he was at my level. "I'm sorry Jasper, I know this is hard."

I sighed. "Yeah, but she was right about one thing. We've got each other, and even if everyone decides to leave, that won't change.. Will it?"

"I'm not going anywhere," he assured, kissing my head. "I'm always here for you."

"I'm always here for you too," I replied.

"Always?" he asked.

"Always," I responded.


	15. The Crucial Realizations

Good evening! I hope you are all well. Apologies for the delay - again. I'm moving across the Atlantic in about three months so I've been exceptionally busy these past weeks. Aha! But even that barely qualifies as an excuse, right? :-) Anyway, things are heating up in the world of Morphine and so I hope you're all as excited as I am about the upcoming chapters. I write to bring you joy and escapism in your busy schedules and so I hope I have succeeded in that over these last chapters. The reason I say this is that Morphine has just passed the 100,000 word mark and I find myself feeling very, well, to use no better adjective, happy. Yep, very happy. And I thank you all again.

Disclaimer: I'm going to 'diss' the 'claimer' this week, sit back, and enjoy the ride.

Enjoy.

* * *

"Hey Jasper, you alright?" asked Edward, who peered down at me as I tucked further into his side.

"Yeah," I responded basely, dismissing a breath. "Well, sorta."

"Sofia?"

"Yeah." My tongue peeped out from between my lips and I nodded from side to side, trying to quell the heaviness and icy pain in my stomach, of which stretched all the way up my body, and sprawled out in my throat. Edward's arm was around my shoulder and my face was flattened against his ribs. His biceps curled around me and his chin came to rest on my head, but Sofia was still stealing my thoughts and concentration. I kissed his side and forced a smile, but it only lasted moments before the interior invaded my expression and my face dropped.

"Hey," whispered Edward, tilting my chin upwards. "We'll see her again. It's Sofia, remember? She'll probably appear at our door with a bottle of tequila in one hand, and a girlfriend for Ptero in the other. Don't worry 'bout her, Jasper. She'll be fine, and so will you."

"I know she will," I said. "And I know I will too. But it's just weird without her."

Edward nestled his lips into my hair and kissed the apex of my head. "Really weird," he agreed. "But maybe I can fill her role? I know it'll be hard to, y'know, be as great as her, but I can try. I know you and her were close - fuck, I was close with her too - but maybe I can do for you what she did. I could be a friend and more than a friend, at the same time. Maybe I'll suck, but I can try. I can try for you?"

The heaviness in my stomach intensified and I felt stretched on two fronts. "You don't need to try, Edward," I replied, sliding up the length of his body to look at him in the eyes. "You don't need to try to be anyone but you. You're worth having a million people in my life."

Silenced for a moment, Edward shifted in his position and cleared his throat. "So that's why you're still with me?" he asked, smiling faintly, although I knew it was only out of nerves. I gawked at him, and I was pretty sure my brows knitted together.

"Still with you?" I asked. "Why _wouldn't_ I still be with you?"

Edward bit his lip nervously and I anticipated stuttering, cursing and an endless array of filler groans and words. "Because.." he started, taking a moment to gather himself. "After all the shit I've caused.. I was just wondering, uhm, why. You're possibly the most intelligent, funny, caring person I know, and you still want to lie here beside me even after everything I've done to you and brought into your life. It doesn't make sense, y'know? It's like fire underwater or something - it shouldn't work, but it's managing to. Somehow."

I tilted my head, confused for a moment, but took a breath to answer. And yet instead, I croaked and squinted my eyes in concentration. Telling him every reason _why_ I was with him was frankly a waste of time; we would be old, wrinkly men by the time I was finished and because I was supposedly the most 'caring' person he had ever met, I would spare him the list and speak the main, fundamental reason as to why I was there beside him, cuddling him, embracing him.

"It's funny," I started. "You know those times when you know something can't possibly happen, so you just enjoy it in your head because that's the only place than can make it real, and make it happen at all?" I laughed to myself, rather insularly, but Edward nodded as if he knew what I was talking about, so I shrugged and continued. "That's what it was like when I thought about you and I back when we were just friends. I used to, and I can't believe I'm admitting this, dream about what we have now and beg the air for it to be real. Sure, I knew in the back of my head that it could never happen - you were straight and that was that - but then you pulled me into the car that night and you proved me wrong with -"

"Actions," said Edward, finishing my sentence. "I was better with showing you shit than I was saying them."

I chuckled breathily. "Boy, hasn't _that_ changed?"

"Has it?"

"It has. You don't stutter as much. Oh, and your mouth isn't like a sailor's anymore." I flinched at that part, as I knew Edward would respond exactly as he did, with a, "Shit, fuck, bastard, bitch."

I groaned. "Some things never change." Pulling his hand to my mouth, I placed a kiss on his knuckles and smiled for the first time without feeling fettered to missing Sofia. "But seriously Edward, you want to know the reason I'm here right now? He's right in front of me. I love how your eyes get all glassy when you're confused, and I love how that muscle in your jaw pops out when you're thinking. Oh, and I love how you make me feel, how you make me not care about anything else when I'm with you and how you remind me how lucky I am to have found you. I love that even though things aren't great at the moment, that I find comfort in knowing you're here. It's probably my fault that I don't tell you this stuff more often, and I'm sorry. I've been meaning to tell you all night. After Sofia leaving, it really hit home and I realized that despite all the crap with Aro and his little girls, that you've given me a hell of a lot more than you've taken. I don't have any regrets. None. At all. Whatsoever. I'd do it all over again if I had to." Realizing that I'd rambled a bit, I quickly apologized and fretted that I'd maybe said a little too much and intimidated him a bit.

"Don't say sorry," said Edward, after a gripping pause. "That was, ugh, beautiful Jasper. You really feel that way?"

"If I say yes, will you promise to not get all quiet and goose-bumpy because of it?"

"No."

"Then no comment." I turned around and faced the wall, tapping my index finger against my arm.

"Fine," he coalesced, flicking me around. "I promise."

I smiled. "Well in that case, nope. It was all a lie."

His brows rose and his lip dropped. I looked at him like he was crazy when I realized that he was taking me seriously and I nudged his shoulder playfully. "Edward? I'm joking! Of course I meant it. I meant every word of it." I fell down upon him and pressed my lips into his and managed to extract a moan from him. As I was smiling, Edward was kissing my teeth and I devilishly bit his lip.

"Thanks Jasper, needed to hear that," he said, beneath a growly morning croak.

"I needed to say it," I responded, my hands caressing the back of his neck.

We stared into each other's eyes for a moment, and I was - as always - lost in the oceans of emeralds that probed and gleamed before me, clinging intensively to the arcs of my eyes and communicating with me in an optical dialect. I watched the fullness of his bottom lip and felt my heart melt as I contemplated cleaving my teeth into it and gently raking them across its plump, rouge surface. I couldn't hold it back and just as I brought my lips to sandwich beneath his, I was halted by a sudden, yet familiar, cackle that guffawed from beyond the halls and in the living room.

I looked at Edward and he looked at me, neither of us having any idea where the sound could have come from. And having been schooled by meticulous caution and constant paranoia, we jumped to our feet and scurried into the sitting room, with Edward only steps behind me.

I almost skidded on my heels when, after scanning the living room, I was halted by a tall, largely built man who had his hand inside Ptero's cage.

"Emmett?" I gasped, my jaw dropping from relief and confusion.

"Jasper!" he called, intending to march up to me with open arms until Edward came swerving around the corner and collided into me from behind, sending us both into a careless catapult towards Emmett's shoes. We stopped and I looked up to see a wide smirk across the intruder's face and I growled through my teeth.

"Good morning boys!" he cheered, holding back a chortle. "You both look smashing this morning. No pun intended."

"Shut up," Edward and I grumbled in unison, realizing then that we had clearly begun to influence each other.

"Ouch. So Jasper, I was thinking that you, me and Ptero head to the park? What j'ya think? When's the last time you walked this little guy? His feathers look old."

Edward vibrated and braced himself to yell, but, after shuffling to our feet, I placed an arm across his chest and temporarily placated him. "You could have knocked," I reminded acerbically.

"Knocked? Since when did I ever _knock_ to come in here? You gave me a key, remember?" snorted Emmett.

Edward looked at me strangely for a moment, and I, in turn, growled and slapped my face. "I gave you that key so you could take care of the animals," I said to Emmett, although it was really to Edward.

"Um, yeah? And that's exactly what I'm doing," responded Emmett, as he poured a new sachet of bird food into Ptero's bowl.

"_Only_ when I'm not here to do it myself!" I retorted.

"When's the last time you brushed Ptero? Gave him his vitamin block? Changed his sand paper? Refilled his water bottle? Brought him for a fly?" he questioned, as I attempted to answer the first question, but was not given a moment to do so. "Clip his nails? Sharpen his beak? Gave him a bath? Let him listen to the radio? Sang him a song? Taught him a curse word? Let him spot some crows? Have you done any of those things recently?"

"Well, ugh, no?" I blurted.

"Exactly. And that's why I'm here. Because you're too.. _busy_ to take care of these guys." He brushed Ptero's chest with his fingers, as if he'd just recited a nursery rhyme and had not just insulted Edward somewhat indirectly.

"Why don't you get out of here?" growled my boyfriend, his expression resembling that of a territorial lion's.

"Why don't you put some clothes on?" retorted Emmett, looking Edward up and down as if he was a piece of gum on the bottom of his shoe, before turning back to coddle the bird lovingly. I looked at my boyfriend, who was indeed naked - save the low hanging boxer briefs that sat on his hips - before I noticed that I was not much better myself, with my underwear and unbuttoned blue shirt being the only articles of clothing against my skin. Emmett didn't seem to complain about my state for some reason, not that it made any difference, but the remark made towards Edward didn't wash down too well regardless.

"How about you leave and get out of Jasper's face?" he growled, shaking his fist in Emmett's direction, only to emit a laugh from the latter. The testosterone compelled me to interject and I stepped between the two boys. "You can't just invite me somewhere without Edward," I said to Emmett, at a volume that was much quieter than anyone else's in the room. "Why don't we go another time?"

"_We_?" Edward huffed. "Just you and him?"

I swallowed the impulse to immediately save face and turned to my partner diligently. "That was including you," I apprised softly.

"Didn't sound like it." I heard a scoff and didn't like where the conversation - if you could call it that - was going. The air around me was like hellium: Intense, pressurized and bound to make me light headed, but I battled on, conscious of the fact that without my continual interventions, the two boys would most likely revert to fistycuffs.

"Hey Em, why don't you come back a different day? Now isn't a great time."

"_Em_?" Edward snarled, folding his arms.

"A different day?" Emmett grumbled, rolling his eyes. "I haven't seen you in weeks."

"No harm in that," mumbled Edward, as I flinched.

"I've always called him Em," I said to Edward, before turning to my neighbor, "And I know, I'm sorry, but now isn't a good time."

"You're sorry? For what? Spending too much time with me?" Edward groused.

I cursed and slapped my face. "I didn't mean it like that!"

"Are you sure you didn't?" Emmett asked, his brow raised.

"He didn't," replied Edward, in my place, at which point I immediately interjected again.

"_Edward,_" I groaned.

In response, Edward growled through a tense jaw. "Apologies for taking up all your time, Jasper. Would you two like a minute alone?"

"Yes," Emmett quipped.

"No!" I gasped.

Edward growled and marched into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him and sending an icy echo through my apartment. I gawked at Emmett, my face drooping like a melted candle as I pinched my eyes with my fingers. "Was that _really_ necessary?" I groused, my hands, palms up, pointing accusatorially at him. "Was that the reason you came over? To cause trouble?"

"Cause trouble?" he responded, his tone annoyingly high. "All I did was invite you to the park and he went all crazy. Is everything alright between you two?"

"Yes!" I snapped, my hands shaped like spiders, "everything is fine!"

"Doesn't look like it."

I gasped, growled, grumbled and groaned into my hands as Emmett stood, falsely and naively before me, watching me as if _I_ was the crazy one. "You know what? When I visited my mom a few months back, she told me that I'd changed a lot since she last saw me."

Emmett angled his head. "And?"

"_And_," I commenced. "It's funny because I don't think I've changed _nearly_ as much as you have. You used to be straight up with me and you never played mind games or had time to toss petty comments or press peoples' buttons. What's happened? Why are you acting like.. like _Irene_?" I said that last part as if it was the worst possible comparison ever known to man.

"I'm the same, man. I never changed and I've been straight up with you since day one of you rambling on about that douche-bag. I don't like him, so get over it."

"If you have a problem with Edward," I sneered. "Then why don't you stop coming over?"

"I did! But I thought I'd give you another chance this time. Obviously the wrong move!"

"Finally we agree on something," I growled. "Door's behind you."

Emmett grimaced and held my glare for a moment before turning on his heels and heading for the door, only to stop just at the egress and stand idly for a second. "You know," he said, not turning around. "You're right, maybe you haven't changed. Maybe I'm seeing you for who you really are - someone who takes what he can get until someone better comes along." He stepped forward and left my apartment, rendering me a shadow, a hollow shell.

My mind barren, I shambled slowly towards the bedroom and sat beside a hard-boiled Edward, who was truly cooked and baked with agitation. After a moment, I heard the dragon himself inhale. "He wants you," said he, his face paved with lines and fissures. "It's pretty fucking obvious."

"He's straight," I said monotonically, unsure as to where my replies were coming from. "At least, I think he is."

"You think so?" he groused, smoke piping from his nose and ears.

Unfazed and robotic, I took a breath. "He told me he was straight, so.."

"How would that even come up in conversation?" I could feel Edward's eyes scrutinizing me.

"It was after we.." Suddenly, my consciousness flicked into my responses and I jolted back to life, aware of what I was about to admit. I shut my mouth immediately and prayed that what I'd said hadn't struck a chord of suspicion with Edward. However his intuitiveness was my mortal enemy as he allowed the silence to ring through me for a moment, before asking, as painstakingly sharp and succinct as the tip of an arrow, "after you _what_?"

I was not a good liar; Edward had established that himself. But a part of me didn't want to lie, to hide it from him. He deserved to know, to understand perhaps why Emmett acted the way he did with me. It was something I'd shoved to the back of my head and allowed my new-found strict friendship with Emmett to obscure. I hoped that time would erode it, but I should have known that some things, as Sofia would say, could not be fixed. I could not fix my secret with a lie, but merely delay its inevitable return in the future; I couldn't just forget what Emmett and I had done as I'd hoped to, and now, as Edward waited for my reply, I felt compelled, morally obliged, to spill my sins and pray to the sky for his reaction to be understanding of what had happened, in light of the circumstances.

"Edward, ugh, Emmett and I-" I started.

"Please don't tell me you two..?" His body curled and I bit my lip to the point of almost splitting it.

"Edward, we - I'm sorry. It was an accident, it just happened."

A flat hand pushed against the knob of my shoulder and flattened me upon the bed sheets. Edward hovered over me, his breathing fiery and his emerald eyes churning with a heated anger. The pressure of his hand pushing down upon me intensified and I squirmed uncomfortably beneath his hold.

"What did he do to you?" he growled, his face inches from mine. "Tell me what he did to you!"

"Edward-"

"Tell me!"

I flinched as a million arrows shot me at once and I shut my eyes briefly to imagine that I was elsewhere - somewhere back in time - an hour further from this one. When I opened up, Edward's grilling expression had not waned.

"He, I, I touched him."

The hand upon my shoulder shook and the fingertips vibrated, all the while Edward's eyes swirled into a bloody, blood-shot rouge. "_Where_ did you touch him?" he hissed.

"My hand.. his, you know," I stuttered.

"You gave him a _hand-job_?" he cursed, his fingers curling and snatching a fistful of my shirt. "You.. you're a disgrace."

"Edward, please!" I begged. "It wasn't like that.. I was sad about you - I was thinking about you."

"Shut the fuck up, you liar. All this time we 'waited' until you were ready to touch me at all, when you'd already jerked off that scumbag next door? Fuck you, Jasper!"

"It wasn't like that at all! I wasn't ready then either. I didn't mean it, please, just listen to me!" Edward pushed himself to his feet and pressed the air out of me as he did so. And although light headed, I wobbled to my feet and pursued him as he exited the room and made his way to the main door.

I reached forward and snagged his shoulder. "Edward, listen to me!"

"Don't fucking touch me!" he snapped, brusquely swiping my hand away from his shoulder. "You did a great job, you know that? I actually thought I was happy here - with all this, with you - turns out it was all a lie. You're just a lie. And I don't want to look at you. Screw you. I should never have trusted you."

Leaving me broken and in a myriad of shards, he stomped out of the house and pursued the exit, slamming the door on the way out. I gathered myself, momentarily and trudged to the door and peered out, only to see Edward standing before Emmett's door, appearing to contemplate whether to knock or not. When he saw me, he snarled and turned away.

"Not even worth it," he growled, picking up his pace and shredding through the hall. I called to him, of course, but he was gone, beyond my explanations and words and scarred by what I'd done. He trusted me more than anyone in his entire life; he shared himself with me, poured himself into me and yet I burned him. I'd ruined him, broken him, and I could never forgive myself for that.

"Edward!" I called again, a response returning to me in the form of silence. "Edward," I said under my breath, as I leaned against the door. "I'm sorry."

Do you ever think that had one thing gone differently, had a traffic light stayed red for just a second longer, or had you woken up just an hour later, how differently your day could have been? Had it not been my birthday that night, or had I decided to spend the night at the hospital, I would never have engaged in a session of drinking with Emmett, and I would never have gotten drunk and done something so stupid, so tactless, so desperate.

I reached for my phone to call someone to talk to and share my load with, but when I clicked the green button, I was sent straight to the answering machine. Of course, Sofia didn't use her American cellphone anymore. I blew the air from my chest and leaned up against the wall, allowing that same heaviness from earlier - the one that only Edward could mitigate - to fill and imbue me, reaching to my finger tips, my throat, my head and going as far as to remind me of how raw I felt. The familial fortification that I once put so much emphasis on had been breached by departure, betrayal and envy and here I was, standing alone, along the wall of the corridor, panting excessively with my eyes glued to the ceiling. I had no Sofia; I had no Edward, and Emmett.. well, Emmett had no Jasper.

I slid down the wall and pulled my fingertips down my eyes. I didn't care who saw me, be it the old ladies from a few floors up, or one of my neighbors who I saw on occasion in the hallway. In retrospect, I really didn't know what to do, where to go, whether or not to stand, or why to even bother. But, when I heard Ptero cawing from inside my abode, I limply pulled myself up the wall and planned to move forward only to be halted by the sound of a door - one of which was far too close to liking - unclasp and creak open.

It didn't even take a second to register with me that there was someone behind me. Turning around, I was met by Emmett's close face with two large blue eyes exploring me inquisitively.

Did it go without saying that he was the last person I wanted to see? Infact, he was 'negative' on my list of people who I wished to converse with. The sight of his face gripped me, crippled my insides and I felt my chin wobble and stomach muscles tense.

"So," he cheered, a goofy smile licked across his face. "How about that visit to the park?"

Maybe I went too far; maybe I shouldn't have acted upon an impulse - again - but something had clawed my spine. Without a conscious thought, my body thrust itself forward with my hands extended before it, thirsty for its target as I trained my anger on him without an iota of restriction. My fists walloped into Emmett's chest and he stumbled backwards into his room before I leaped at him, falling upon him and kicking the door shut behind me.

Edward's face stirred me on and reminded me of what this man - this supposed friend - had caused me to lose, and with a fire in my belly, I slammed my fists down towards Emmett's face and yelped loudly when they met the hard wooden floor either sides of his head.

I fell forward, my head drooped, and barely caught myself against my rooted knuckles. My eyes in line with Emmett's neck as an acerbic bead of sweat dropped from my forehead and into the gap between his collarbones, I took a gravelly breath of air and noticed Emmett's chest heaving up and down.

Had I .. scared him?

I slowly resurrected my head from its repose, not realizing that my eyes were cloudy with anger, and watched Emmett for a moment. The smugness, the cheeky smirk, the pompous expression.. they were all replaced; replaced by shock and fear at what I'd done and how I'd reacted.

After a minute of catching our breaths within an interval of utter stillness, Emmett ventured to speak, very, very softly.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes looking at me as if he was ready to back away slowly.

I breathed in shakily. "I told Edward, about us. About what we did. He left." My body shook.

"A-and why did you do that?" His tone was intentionally placating, but the only thing that was keeping me from executing my anger, again, was the fact I had somewhat worn myself out and exerted everything that had troubled me starting from my mother's words, to Sofia's departure, to my confession to Edward.

"It was by accident, sorta, I wanted him to know. He deserved to." I took another breath.

"Did _you_ deserve for him to know?"

"The fuck does that mean?" I sneered.

"It wasn't as if you had commitments to him when you.. you know, got me off."

The muscles around my nose pulled up my upper lip. "That's not what this is about," I growled. "You made him feel inadequate, like he never deserved me. And then he finds out that all this time, I'd screwed around with the one person who was making him feel like that."

"I didn't mean to-" I raised my hand to silence his explanations, because frankly, I wasn't willing nor ready to hear them, and I continued to say exactly what I needed to say.

"You made it like some kind of competition - 'who can win Jasper Whitlock' as if I'm a piece of meat. It's not the fact that I screwed around with someone before Edward, Emmett, it's the fact that I'd screwed around with someone who'd created an 'Emmett vs Jasper' thing. He's a territorial guy, I get that, but you manipulated that the _second_ you sussed it out."

"Jasper, I-"

"I don't want to hear it!" I snapped. "You took advantage of my situation and made a balls of everything Edward and I have worked for as a couple, and for what? What reason could you _possibly_ have to want to break us up? What's your agenda, Emmett? Are you gay? Is that it? Frustrated?"

"No! I, just-"

"I honestly didn't see it, even when it was right in front of me. I swear, how fucking stupid am I? You let me jerk you off, you get jealous when I have a boyfriend in my life, you never like it when I talk to or about guys _at all_, even if it's not in a romantic way. It's so clear to me now - you're so clear to me now. How did I not see it? How did I not realize it for so long?"

"Realize what?" Emmett gulped.

"That Edward is right. You were never just my friend, were you? All those flirty jokes that I thought were nothing serious; that touchy-feely friendship we always had; the way you'd turn up to 'feed the animals' but would stay around all day? None of that was because you were my friend - you were waiting for something more." I wiped my arm across my eyes as a revelation befell me and I thought back to every exchange between Emmett and I, and saw it in a new light.

"Why didn't you just say something?" I pleaded. "Why didn't you just tell me, instead of pretending you were interested in a.. platonic kind of friendship? If we were really friends, you could have told me!"

"We _are_ just friends! It _is_ just platonic. I _don't_ like you in that way - I never did," he assured frantically, "I promise Jay, you're my best friend, even though you just knocked me to the floor and are sitting on me, you mean the world to me."

"Friends don't say that to each other!" I claimed, shouting as if he was deaf. "That's the sort of things lovers say!"

"Well maybe for you!" he snapped, visually and tonally becoming more and more agitated. "Not everyone is the same. Only you would be able to come up with this whole scenario by adding all the wrong pieces together. Fuck, man, listen to yourself. So you got me off once - we were drunk, big deal - and I'm protective of you - I'm your friend, it's what I do. I know how you trust people so easily and I never wanted to see someone break you - so sue me for not liking Edward, the king of all that is fucking creepy and dark." He stopped and pushed me off of him with a firm knock and I fell onto my elbows. "Yeah, fine, I tried to break you two up. But jy'a know why? Because friends do what's best for each other even if it makes them the enemy. I get that you hate me right now, really I do, but you'll thank me later. If making Edward and you think that I was jealous was what caused you two to break up, then whatever, I don't have any regrets."

My jaw smacked the floor. "Are you crazy? You're not God, Emmett. You don't have the right to meddle in my life because _you_ think you know what's best." My hands shot out before me and I arched my shoulders. "You know what? You and my mother are exactly the same. You're all the same. If you really cared about me - as a friend - then you'd want me to be happy. I chose Edward, and he makes me happy. But you ruined it. You _had_ to ruin it, and now you're telling me I'm crazy for thinking that it's in your interests for me to be single? Don't even insult me like that."

"Goddamn it Jasper, he makes you happy now but he won't in the long run. You gotta listen to me-"

"What, and I suppose _you_'ll make me happy then?" I spat, sarcastically, as I rolled my eyes with bitter frustration."

"As a friend, yeah, I probably will!" he defended. "I want what's best for you, it's all I've ever wanted. I've only ever looked out for you, but if you can't see it then it's your loss."

"You want what's best for yourself," I said, elevating to my feet and shaking my head. "I don't even know if Edward will even listen to me. I tried to explain more, give him some background, but he didn't want to hear it. He feels like I'm a fake because I wouldn't do anything with him until I was ready. But then all this time, you and I had this secret, the fact I was willing to touch you, but not him. And now he must feel so.." I sighed and shook my head. "Inadequate. Belittled. I - I just don't know."

"What do you mean you weren't ready?" he asked, leaning back on his elbows.

"I wanted to be sure that this was what I wanted. Believe it or not, I'm not completely stupid. I did have to think whether, at one stage, Edward and I were right for each other. And while I was deciding on that, I didn't want to do anything with him that would make lust or sex cloud my judgement. But then last night, when Sofia left, I realized how much I needed him, and then I was sure. I didn't doubt it anymore because it was the thought of him that made me feel better." I looked at him in the eyes and breathed in slowly. "And knowing I had you around helped too, but then you pulled this stunt and.. Christ, Emmett, I just don't know anymore." I descended my head into my knees and sighed. "I've lost all of you."

I heard Emmett's breathing for a moment before it became so faint and so quiet that the room was stagnantly silent. The fact he didn't react to me mentioning Sofia's departure told me that he already knew about it. Perhaps she'd phoned him? Maybe she'd paid him a visit? As my mind began to think about my absent Spanish comrade, Emmett suddenly spoke and pulled me back into the bitter ambience.

"You really feel that way?" he asked. "You really care about him that much?"

I nodded from side to side and brought my eyes to his. "Yeah."

"And you're sure he cares about you that much too?" he asked.

I sighed. "Yes he does."

"How sure are you?" he asked, his eyes somewhat shadowed.

I stood up with a deep breath and turned towards the door while Emmett watched me from behind.

"One hundred percent," I said, as I pushed the door open and disappeared down the hall.

* * *

I threw a pebble into the gurgling and crashing waves below, watching it crack against the cliff's spine and accumulate some geomorphic brethren to plunge with it. I repeated this process, expecting something miraculous to happen each time the rock penetrated the white foam of the aggressive waves. I sat, with my feet dangling over the edge, as the clouds plotted the climate in the horizon. They were dark, grey and suggestive, and curled into one another while brewing a storm above the black waters below them. Seattle was never a bright city, and moving from Florida, I had to adjust to the constant sheets of white in the sky. It wasn't the rain, as such, that bothered me. It was the stillness; rain, at least, was movement and made the city glitter. But plain, stagnant clouds clogging the sky and neutralizing even the slightest breeze, all the while the trees stood leafless and lifeless, untouched by the influence of a zephyr was what chained my mood to a robotic tendency and allowed me to operate on stand-by.

It's funny how when you experience something new, you gain perspective on something old. I never realized that my life was colorless, that I saw the world through a lens as bleak as the ominous clouds before me. It all changed, however, when I met Edward. It was then when I realized how black and white my life was before. Through him I gained a perspective; through each torturous moment of eating blowfish to each tender hour of watching ice-hockey on the screen, I learned that in each way Edward had influenced and moulded my life, he had injected blood into clay. Each morning with him in my life brought motivation, exhilaration, an ecstasy that wouldn't destroy me, despite popular opinion. And as I sat and watched how the waves sank into the roots of the cliffs, or how the clouds claimed and consumed the plains of sullen blueness that managed to peak through the prevailing white curtains, I felt myself descend into the mundane; back ten steps from what was beautiful to what was banal and mundane. I could feel auto-pilot pull my reins once again and when I threw the final pebble that was within my reach, I did so in a manner that was indicative of nothing but numbness.

It was familiar; I was in stand-by again. I would wake up, go to work, come home and fall asleep only to repeat the cycle again. There would be no blue, no red, no green or no yellow, only white and grey, and if I was lucky, black. This was the spectrum of my consciousness now. I was back at the beginning, the fun was over, the color was gone.

I was almost jealous of the way I was before. Living in auto-pilot was a lot easier when I didn't realize it, back before I'd gained any Edward-given perspective. But now, after having experienced attachment beyond what I thought was possible, and beyond anything tangible that 'why' could answer, I felt dull. Now I knew what I was missing, and I felt empty.

I sighed, and lowered myself onto my back and stared up at the sky. This was Cliff's Edge, the place Edward drove me to the night I had dinner at his place for the first time. He pulled me into his car in what, at the time, was a scary moment, only to profess reality to me and tell me how he felt about me. It was here where fantasy became this reality and I realized that everything I'd only dreamt about had come true. This was the closest place I could get to him, feel him, smell him, or do something to reach out to him.

I couldn't bare to hear his answering machine anymore. I could repeat it word for word: "Hey, Edward here. I'm, ugh, well, I guess I'm busy or somethin' so just, ugh, shit.. How do I start this again? Oh balls! I saved it. Fuck! _Jasper_? How do I change my voicemai-? _Beeeep_." I listened to it a few times to hear his voice, but it became a reminder of how I'd screwed up and of course, what I was missing. I wiped my eyes and took a powerless breath and it rendered me exposed to the pit in my stomach.

"Edward," I breathed, trying to grasp him somehow, by perhaps repeating his name. "Edward. Edward."

I felt a droplet kiss the tip of my nose and my eyes blinked open but shut again when a few more droplets sprayed into them. Before I could even contemplate fleeing to the car, the rain was cascading upon me and ricocheting against my body. I gasped for a breath as the water gushed into my mouth and smacked against my teeth.

"Edward," I groaned. "I miss you."

All around me, from beyond my feet to above my head, was the sound of the raining pelleting against the cliffs and roaring waves, as well as the gravel of the trail behind me and the bushes that Edward had cleared with his car when he came rolling through them and ultimately discovered this place. I gasped again, inhaling the sprays and tasting the rainwater.

"Edward," I said again. "I _miss_ you."

"I miss you too," said a deep voice that crackled from behind the shrill descent of the rain. I shot upwards and looked around frantically, only to settle my eyes upon a sight that I thought had truly escaped my grasp.

"Edward?" I gasped, wiping my hair out of my eyes and sliding my hand down my cheek. "W-what're you doing here?"

"I thought you'd be here," he said, partially blocking the view of his car from behind, the door left ajar and the inside light still on. I blinked the water from my eyes and raised my voice to speak above the rumbling droplets upon the gravel. "Y- you came back?" I asked.

"I did. I, ugh, I shouldn't have left, Jasper. I'm sorry. I should have let you explain."

Rendered speechless, I gawked for a moment. "B-but after what I did? You're here? Now? Why?"

"Because," he said, "I could go back to the way I was - miserable, anti-social and, well, fucked up. Or I could be with you - the person I look forward to seeing when I wake up, even if that happens to be around two o'clock."

"I can't change what I did," I blurted, shaking my head as the water streamed down my face. "I can't go back in time, but please, just let me explain. It'll make sense when I do, Edward, I promise."

"You don't need to," he said. "I already get it."

"How?" I panicked on the inside for a moment as I thought that he'd maybe filled in the blanks himself and had come to a conclusion that suited him.

"Emmett called me and asked, well, ugh, _demanded_ to see me. I'll admit, I tried to hang up but he got real angry and told me to meet him at his place. I went back and he told me everything ... everything that happened between you."

I panicked even further and felt pinned by anger at the thought of Emmett meddling again even after speaking to/attacking him. "Goddamn! What did he say! I swear, he's probably wrong, let me make it right."

Then, Edward took me by surprise when he smiled - endearingly - at me. "Calm down," he cooed. "It's alright, don't worry. He made a lot of sense."

"What did he say?" I pressed.

"He didn't deny what happened, thankfully, because I would have kicked his lying fucking ass if he tried to, but he told me a lot about you ... things you said to him while we were just friends and things from after I left today. He told me 'bout how you felt after Sofia left, what it made you realize. And he told me that, even though _he_ doesn't like me, that I make you happy and that he doubted that I felt any differently. He told me that what happened between you guys was a mistake and that it was me you were upset about, and that's why you did it. Then he told me to remember everything you've done for me and how you've changed me, and to not expect someone to be perfect all the time."

Speechless, again, I stuttered an interjection, "A-and then what?" I croaked.

"Well," he said, stroking the back of his head shyly. "He told me to get off of my ass and find the best fucking thing that's ever happened to me."

My bottom lip wobbled and I stood, in my saturated and soaking clothes, in absolute shock and joy with my hands limp either side of me. I charged into him, then, and flung my arms around him, pressing my nose into the niche that I had dreaded to never feel again. His hands clasped beside me and we held each other close, lest we lost each other again, while the rain pelleted down upon us and swerved around our lips as we kissed amidst desperation and longing.

"I knocked on your door," said Edward quietly, after our lips broke. "But you didn't answer. I heard Ptero cawing something but I couldn't recognize it. It was something like that song out of the Loony Tunes. You know the one I'm talking about? The one that goes like.."

"Edward?" I interrupted.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up." I pressed my lips into his babbling mouth, feeling myself elevate from the old and into what was right. Color spread itself around me as I tasted his lips once again and my nerve endings turned profoundly raw and electrified at his touch. The rain came to a sudden halt and I, being drenched from head to toe, was frozen solid when the wind decided to molest me and I suggested that we turn the car into a sauna with the heating. Edward chuckled and walked me to the vehicle and I quickly threw myself inside and shivered in the passenger seat.

Edward, as always, sped down the highways like a lunatic, while I sat with my jaw clenched, wondering who I'd give Bierce Fitch to under the event of my death. When I feared for myself as Edward's passenger, I usually calmed myself down by looking at him. His eyebrows were always dropped over his eyes and he bit his lip with impatience when a "goddamn tool of a driver" drove too slowly for his liking. And his crotch wasn't exactly neglected by my eyes either, that being said.

When we pulled up at my apartment block, I was ready to count my blessings and hop into bed with Edward, with my plan being to cuddle and clutch him the entire night. But as always, because I am Jasper Whitlock, he who radiates luck and fortune, my buzzer went off and I was called into surgery 'immediately.' I felt compelled to slap my head against the dashboard; since Irene was fired, I had been summoned significantly fewer times during my off hours. It was proof that when someone asked, "paige a general surgeon," Irene nominated me for the job just for the sheer hell of it. Why _not_ ruin my weekend? It's not like I had an Edward to coddle or anything.

I cursed indignantly and flashed the screen to Edward, who sighed and leaned his head against the window. "You wanna drive, or will I?"

"If I drive, I might just kill someone," I uttered, my eyes glaring at the screen.

"Well in that case, here are the keys." He chucked the keys at my chest and a smile tugged across my face.

"I really think you should drive," I recommended. "God forbid I might drive under 200mph."

"Ah, good thinking," he responded, snatching the keys from my lap. "We wanna get there _before_ we die of old age."

"It's not as if I drive like your grandma," I sniggered. "Besides, it's also not my fault you drive like Rambo... On crack. With a rocket up his ass."

"Funny that you're the one calling me out on speed." A devilish expression swept across his face. "Since you have all those curves and no brakes."

I slapped my face and rouged. "That was for Sofia, not you!" I reminded, though my expression did me no favors. "It was just me and my luck that you had to hear it."

He started the car with a mirthful huff. "Moral of the story.. Pot, kettle, black."

I cackled loudly and smiled while resting my head against the headrest. "I'm glad you came back, Edward," I said, turning my head slightly.

"I'm glad I came back," he responded. "I'm sorry for not listening to you."

I shook my head. "No, I should've told you about Emmett and I sooner. Speaking of who." I stopped and looked up at Emmett's window and sighed heavily, turning back to Edward and nodding. "I guess I should say something to him. Like, thank you? Or is that too cheap? What should I say?"

Edward remained silent and I sighed again, looking back up at Emmett's window. "I hope he's alright.. after I sorta attacked him." I said the last part under my breath, my eyes still glued outside the window. "He means well."

"Ready to go?" Edward asked, rubbing my leg. "Don't want to be late for Irene, do we?"

A guilty smile spread across my face. "Irene isn't a problem anymore," I said, curling my bottom lip into my mouth.

"Cut?" asked Edward.

"Cut," I confirmed.

"Let's make sure you don't end up joining her." With that, he pulled out of the drive and catapulted down the freeway with me, as always, with my eyes closed and pretending to be on a short ride on Space Mountain. But in the meantime, it was time to get focused. I was a surgeon, and I needed to click back into that mode. Despite my roller-coaster of a day, my soaking wet clothes, my near miss of a break up with Edward, and my attack of and subsequent blaming of Emmett for all things wrong in my life, there was one constant that was not subject to change; or at least, I couldn't allow it to be.

I was a surgeon, after-all, and nothing was going to change that. I had to separate my life from my work, as a mergence of the two would be to the detriment of my patients, those who relied on me. But as I look back on the events that led me to where I am now, as I recount my version of events, I can say that the biggest mistake I would ever make pertained to that very lesson. If only I had realized it back then, maybe things would have turned out very, very differently. And maybe, Sofia wouldn't have been the only person I was about to lose.

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Stay tuned ;)


	16. Medicinal Inspiration

Well, well! Chapter time. Thank you for your patience and continued support/reading. I know I'm late again (sorry!) but I hope this chapter makes up for it - it's rather long. It's picking up in the land of Morphine so keep an eye out for the next few chapters! That being said, I hope you enjoy this one.

Disclaimer: Twilight Edward doesn't eat blowfish. Morphine Edward does. And there's our fundamental difference.

Don't be afraid to speak your minds :-). Love y'all and enjoy!

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After giving Edward a goodbye smooch and waiting for him to stutter through a " I can't wait to see you later," I pressed through the doors of St. Jay's with my howling pager in my left hand, while shambling to my department after grabbing a coffee from the nurses' lounge. When I flashed my device at my intern, I was informed that one of the cardiac patients had been moved to general surgery due to a newly discovered cyst on the coronary ligament of her liver. The trivialness of the diagnosis annoyed me a bit because as far as I was concerned, it was no reason to page me. To be paged insinuated something urgent, that your patient was bleeding out and only your hands could save him. But a cyst?! A freaking cyst? Come on! Weren't _interns_ there for those kind of removals? Ppft, I wouldn't have even subjected one of them to a procedure so humdrum. Sofia would have had that cyst annihilated before I could even say _promotion_.

My new intern, who appeared to be a plump-face, red-cheeked Japanese man, guided me to my new patient and bowed slightly as I slid past him into the room. When I stood before the bedridden women, he curled into the room and remained in the peripherals as I read her chart.

"Mrs. Margins," I said, closing the chart. "My name is Dr. Jasper Whitlock and I'm here to speak with you about the cyst discovered in your CT scan. How are you feeling?"

The woman looked up at me, her eyes unimpressed with my entrance, and grumbled something under her breath as she slid up her bed-frame.

"How do you think I feel, you pin-head!? I'm lying on a stiff hospital bed with nothing to eat but this plasticky excuse for food that you people create!"

Taken aback, I swiftly flicked the chart open and noticed that, in the section regarding the woman's age, the number '84' was written in. I'm pretty sure my eyes bulged out a little and I slowly raised them to view her from behind the spine of the chart. My intern, in all his mediocracy, attempted to chime in with a 'it's not kind to call your surgeon names,' but was shot down by the elderly woman, who waved her hand dismissively and groused, "save it prissy! I'm old enough to be excavated, so don't think you can go around telling me what is or isn't kind!"

"But I -"

"Save it!" she interrupted, her voice sending the intern back to the egress. Her eyes came to put me on the spotlight and she inhaled liberally as if to say that she'd already had enough. "So what now?" she asked me. "If you even say the word enema, so help me God.."

"No, no!" I chuckled. "No worries, nothing like that. I just came to tell you that you have to start fasting in preparation for the surgery. Did the intern go through the procedure with you?"

Mrs Margins poked her head out and glared at the intern, signaling him closer with a curl of her finger. "Come here boy. Explain to me why I have no idea whether this man will be cutting open my forehead or my girls?" She pointed at her breasts and the intern rouged and stuttered at a rate that far exceeded anything that had ever come out of Edward. I snorted and tilted my head down guiltily.

"Well?" she huffed. "Tell me why!"

"I-I, I'm sorry," my intern gasped. "I was meaning to, after Dr Whitlock left, I mean. I-I'm sorry. I can go through it now, um, if you'd like?"

"No!" Mrs Margins grumbled. "I've got the big shot here to do that for me. Now step back over to the door before I kick you out of it."

"Yes ma'am." The intern shuffled over to the door and stood awkwardly, his face redder than previously. I, in the mean-time, had to restrain myself from falling over in laughter. To spare the aspiring doctor, I nodded to him and he jolted out of the room without a further prompt. Then, I turned back to my patient and quickly explained the procedure.

"See? Why couldn't that idiot do that?" she asked, sighing.

"Interns," I drew out. "They're hopeful bottom-bitches."

Mrs Margins cackled and slapped a wrinkly hand upon the sides of the bed. "Aha! So they are. Now tell me, where's the fire alarm in this dungeon?"

I looked around and spotted it above my head. "Ugh, it's there." I pointed upwards. "Why?"

Just then, the old lady zipped down her fleece slightly and from her bra, she withdrew a crinkled packet of cigarettes. I gawked with an open mouth.

"Do us a favor and clip the wires, dear boy?" she requested, shoving the brown sponge into a circled mouth while thumbing a lighter.

I shook my head. "You can't smoke in a hospital! It's dangerous to our other patients."

"I'm alone in this room and no-one will find out. Will they?"

"Well, no?" I intoned.

"Perfect. Don't be such a pussy, child! Open the window or break the alarm, it's your choice."

Having never experienced such an atrocity, I continued to gawk in amazement. "B- but, your surgery?"

My patient then slapped her free hand upon the mattress. "It's my liver, not my lungs! And I'll treat them as I want."

I looked around the room and, from the square window of the door, I could see that most of the nurses were preoccupying themselves around the reception. Remembering that my patient was old enough to be my grand-mother, I felt strange asserting authority over her and when I looked her direction, her eyes were the nails in the coffin of my protests. After briefly questioning the oath I'd taken as a physician, I pulled over a stool, reached up, and disabled the fire alarm.

"Thank you, dear," she said, pulling against the cigarette. "Nice to see someone with some balls 'round here. You doctors can be so irritating. So milquetoast."

"Hah, well you could be my grand-mother. Felt weird saying no to you." I smirked and rolled my eyes across the floor. "But if one of those nurses catches you after I leave, I'll deny ever helping you with your evil plan."

"Deal!" croaked the elder. "Now go on, leave me be. I have to sleep this 'fasting' time away."

I slipped out the door and shut it tightly behind me so that no smoke would get out. When I was finally on my own - albeit in the halls of the hospital - I leaned against the wall and took a deep breath.

"Life and work.. separate them," I said under my breath, glaring up at the ceiling. I knew that Edward, Emmett, Sofia and Aro were all in the back of my mind, stealing my attention at the most inexpedient of moments, but when I thought about how I had just allowed a patient to consume tobacco in a medical environment, I realized that my mind was not even nearly as focused as it should have been. I couldn't concentrate with judgement. At all. I mean, I was pretty sure that I'd spent most of my time thinking about how I was going to approach Emmett and tell him thank you, or sorry, or thank-you-for-understanding, or whatever. I was thinking about how relieved I was that Edward understood the circumstances surrounding what happened with me and Emmett. I was thinking about how exposed I sometimes felt now that Sofia was gone. And finally, I was thinking about Aro: His unpredictability, his inconsistency, his schemes. But then - now - I had to stop myself from being overwhelmed. There was a moment every morning as I walked through the doors of the hospital when I had to stop and consciously flush the affairs of my life from my mind. Of course I'd done that today as usual, but in light of the hectic few days I'd had, it wasn't quite going according to plan.

"Dr Whitlock, here's the rest of your rounds," said a nurse passing-by, handing me a new chart.

"Oh! Thanks." I jerked a little, as if I'd been struck by a catte-prod, and smiled at the lady as she walked away. I took another breath and opened the chart, only to see my friend Julian's name at the top of the list. Smiling and feeling light, I skipped down and around the halls until I arrived at my favorite room in the hospital and animatedly swayed the door open.

"Guess who?" I sang, popping into the room. "Only your favorite doctor!"

"Dr. Phil?" cheered Julian, rising from his repose. "My life is now complete!"

I stopped. "Hah. Very funny. How've you been, buddy?" I moved to the chair at the side of the bed and sat down before reaching over and ruffling his hair.

Julian sighed. "Okay," he said, shoveling his green notepad into his pillow, indicating to me that he had just be writing in it. "It's been quiet around here."

"Yeah," I agreed, peering down, while trying to avoid the face of a certain person collecting itself in the visual part of my mind. "There were a lot of cuts recently."

"Cuts?" asked Julian. "Like, injuries?"

"Aha, no. As in, some people were let go."

"Of their jobs?"

"Yeah," I sighed, playing with my thumbs. "And I know I haven't been paying you as many visits as we'd both like. I've been busy. But I'll be around more often, I promise."

"You said that last time," reminded Julian softly, as he reached for the remote and switched off the television. "It gets lonely when you're not around."

"It gets lonely when _you're_ not around," I responded, smiling crookedly.

Julian dropped his head to the side and looked at me directly. "I'm _always_ around," he intoned, folding his arms. "And if I could get out of this bed, I'd walk around to find you."

I opened his chart as he spoke and noted the nurse's record of his condition. It hadn't changed, luckily, but it hadn't improved either. It was as if the cancer had decided to remain stagnant for the time being - as if to declare a phony war and not act upon its intimidating and suggested intentions. I closed the chart, lest the boy - whose intelligence far exceeded that of any other child his age - would read my expression and gather an answer regarding his condition from it. I placed the book on my lap and leaned back on the chair.

"You don't feel up to walking?" I asked. "No energy?"

"Nah," he dismissed. "I have the energy, I just don't want to walk around. I prefer it in here."

"In here?" I asked, looking around and noticing the prosaicness of the room. "You've made it pretty comfy in here alright, but don't you want to walk around a bit? Maybe make some friends in the other wards?" I prodded his shoulder. "You'd be fighting the girls away with a stick!"

"I thought about it," replied Julian, at a tone that was much less buoyant than mine. "But I don't like to meet the other patients anymore. Only the doctors."

"Why?" I asked, turning awkwardly on the chair to engage him more deeply.

Julian bit his lip. "Do you remember my friend Cindy, from 34A? She had blonde hair and really pretty eyes?"

"Yes!" I blurted enthusiastically, as I recalled the face of the young girl who often practiced walking up and down the halls connecting the Peds and General surgery departments. "What about her?"

"She died three months ago," he replied.

"Oh."

I watched Julian arch his shoulders. "Do you remember the old lady, Aileen, in room 12C? She died too. Do you know the Scottish man with the funny accent, two doors down from here? He died in April, two years ago. I've been here three _years_ now and it's just.. no-one else has. All the original friends I made are gone and I just don't like watching their families come to take all their stuff out for the next person to move in." He looked out the window passionately and breathed lightly in silence, as if to gather his thoughts. "I've been here longer than some of the doctors and all of the patients, and well, if I say something, will you promise to not get mad?"

"Of course," I drew out.

"I don't _want_ to make any new friends here. I feel kind of left behind. Does that sound stupid? It's just, all of these good people - these good friends - have gone to heaven and I'm still here, lying in this bed and feeling sick. Did I do something wrong? Is it because I don't deserve to be with them? They're all together up there, and - " he stopped and sighed. "Is it bad that I want to be with them? Because I do. Dying mustn't be so bad - Cindy was a year younger than me and she did it - so it can't be as scary as people think. I don't want to walk around and see room 12C because it'll remind me of Aileen and how she left without me. I don't want to see the person who's replaced her, because they won't know, like I do, all the people who were there before them. Everything outside this room reminds me of someone, a friend, someone who's gone, and I can't really do it anymore. I get too sad. It's all so stupid, isn't it?"

"N-no, Julian, it's not stupid," I croaked, breathing through a heaviness in my chest. "I've been here from the beginning, right? You've got me."

"That's why I only talk to doctors. They're the only ones who stay here, but even then, most of my nurses and interns haven't been coming around lately. I thought you left as well, but at least you didn't."

I thought of all the faces that I watched depart the hospital that day the chief and his advisor cut fifty percent of the hospital's talent, including one of my closest friends. "Buddy, I know it's hard having to be the one to watch so many people come and go," I said, choosing my words carefully while lacing my fingers together between my knees. "And I can't tell you that I know how much it sucks. But sometimes in life, these things happen. Sometimes you have someone you really care about - someone you can have personal Spanish jokes with - and then one day, when you least expect it, they can be ripped out from under you. And yeah, it sucks. It really, _really_ sucks. And you'll cry. You'll sob. You might even punch something. But then you start to remember the times you _did_ have with that person and how your moments with them changed you, and then you let go of the sadness of not having them, and you feel happy that you had them in the first place." I stood up and lay down beside him on the bed, wrapping my arm around his shoulders and crossing my ankles. "So yeah, Cindy is gone. Aileen is gone. That guy with the funny accent is gone too, but just because they're not lying in one of the wards in this hallway doesn't mean that they're gone from _here_." I placed my index finger on his chest, just over his heart and tapped it gently. "Just remember the happiness each of them brought you, your happy memories with them, and take them with you when you reach out to meet new people."

"But nobody will ever be like them," he protested, softly, tucking his chin into his neck. "There's only one of every person, right?"

"True," I confirmed. "But right now, it's hard to think of being friends with others when you had these big influential people in your life. But it's like reading a great book, or watching a good movie - you think you'll never read or see another one as good as that, but then one day, you're blown away by something new. It doesn't take away from the original, but it reminds you that greatness isn't confined to a select group of people, or a specific book, or a certain movie. Sometimes you need to give people a chance, and when you do, it can be the most rewarding thing ever. Then that person becomes your favorite book, or your favorite movie, but just defined by the new standards carved out by your previous favorites."

"Jasper?" Julian asked, his expression inquisitive. "Can you say that in English?"

I pulled my arm back to my side and chuckled deeply, forgetting that I wasn't speaking to Sofia, Emmett, or the Jasper from months ago. "Just don't give up hope," I said, looking down at my cupped hands. "You've come this far, right?"

"I guess so," Julian pressed out, fidgeting with his hands in an identical fashion to me.

I titled his chin up with my index finger and smiled. "You know what? I want you to meet someone. It might cheer you up."

"I know all the staff. I think I've met them all already."

"He doesn't work here," I replied slyly, pulling my phone from my pocket and dialing a number that I knew off by heart.

"Who is he?" Julian inquired, his interest piqued.

"You'll see." Just then, I heard Edward's voice on the other end and, even after all this time, I didn't fail to melt into it. He asked me if everything was okay and I assured him that it was, before inviting him to the hospital to "meet someone special." He panicked momentarily and questioned whether my mother was paying a surprise visit, but I assured him that that wasn't even remotely the case, and that I just wanted him to meet somebody. He chuckled and said that my mysteriousness was somewhat sexy, before hanging up after promising, "15 minutes" down the phone.

"He's on his way," I said to Julian, tucking my phone away. "He's excited to meet you."

"_Please_ tell me who he is?" my patient begged, his curiosity dominating all else. "Come on Jasper!"

"He's a friend of mine. Somebody who blew me away," I said, with a faint smile.

"Like Cindy, or Aileen?" he asked, his head tilted.

"Yeah, like that."

"Where's he from?" Julian asked.

"Seattle, like you," I said. "He lives just outside the city so he shouldn't be too long."

"And why do you want me to meet him?" He began fixing the disheveled sheets of his bed and fluffing his pillows.

"He's like you, I guess." I smiled as Edward's face popped into my mind and I suddenly couldn't wipe the grin off of my face. "The only difference is that he never stopped reaching out to people like you did, he never really reached out to anyone to _begin_ with."

"But he did for you?"

"Yup."

"And he's your best friend now?"

"You could say that." My grin widened.

"But why you?"

Because of his age, I didn't want to be the one to go into the 'birds and the bees,' or rather, 'the bees and the bees,' aspects of me and Edward's relationship. "I can't speak for Edward here, but when he arrives, I'm sure he can answer that for you."

We tossed jokes between us for the next couple of minutes and Julian took great pleasure in asking me as many questions about Edward as he could, in anticipation for his expected arrival. Mid-wait, I had to run to the reception and make up a bullshit reason for my extra time spent with Julian and why Edward was needed to visit him. I told the 'new' Irene that Edward was his uncle and that I thought it would be good for the patient to catch up with him, for the moral support at least. New Irene agreed when she saw Edward and lay eyes upon him for two moments beyond the standard definition of appropriate. She nodded slowly, her eyes glued to him, and I inwardly cheered for my boyfriend and his hotness, for it worked miracles on thirsty gawkers like New Irene.

I eluded Edward's embrace until we were beyond the sight of the new receptionist and I hugged him then, circling my hand around his wrist. "Thanks for coming," I said, into his ear. "Thank you."

Edward chuckled. "It's no problem, Jasp. Who do you want me to meet?"

"A friend," I said again, causing Edward to comment on my 'sexy mysteriousness' another time.

I led him into my patient's room, and when I entered first, Julian was poking his head either side of me to get a glimpse at his anticipated guest. Edward slipped out from behind me, looked from me to Julian and tilted his head with confusion.

"Hi, I'm Julian!" said my patient optimistically, signaling to the chair beside the bed. "Jasper was telling me about you."

Edward looked at me unsurely again, but I nodded and smiled. "He's been my patient for three years," I said.

"Oh, well, my name's Edward. Nice to meet you." He extended a hand to Julian, an action that told me he wasn't used to dealing with children, but my patient didn't really know what to do with it, and shook it with his left one, creating an awkward collaboration of palms and thumbs. I sat on the corner of Julian's bed and positioned myself neutrally between him and Edward.

"Julian's planning to lead his soccer team and ask Wendey Carter to his prom, eh buddy?"

Julian smacked my arm playfully and rouged a little. "Remind me to never tell you things ever again."

"What? It's true!" I protested, a smirk fixed on my face. "You've been saying it since you were eight!"

"Exactly," he quipped. "Some day I'll ask _your_ Dad about the stupid things you said when you were eight and you'll know how it feels!"

Edward glanced at me and I smirked. But before I could retaliate to Julian, he interrupted me.

"You should ask Jasper's mother," he said dryly, wiggling his eyebrows in an animated way.

I snorted and pushed against his shoulder, as Julian had done to me.

"Why? What's Jasper's Mom like?"

Edward hesitated with a grin and shot me a wry, uncertain look. "Ugh, how could we describe her, Jasp?"

"Satan's side-kick."

"Like Irene?" Julian asked, his tongue pursed between his lips guiltily.

I snorted again. "Yeah. But maybe worse."

"Hey, hey, she's not all bad," Edward interjected. "She keeps some great photos of Jasper. There's one where he's sitting on a washing machine, dressed up as a cow- _Oomph_!" I quickly slapped my hand across his face and attacked him a little bit, throwing my arm around his neck as if I was holding him hostage.

"That never happened," I assured Julian, keeping Edward still. "I have no idea what he's talking about."

"Yes you do!" Edward piped up, before I covered his mouth again.

"Shh, Octo-boy, go to sleep. It'll all be over soon."

Julian chuckled as Edward broke free and shuffled away from me, 'psycho' escaping his lips. I laughed and turned back to my patient. "So you guys, I'm going to leave you to it. I've got a list of patients who're waiting for me to check in. I'll be back in fifteen." I stood up and winked at the boys.

"You're leaving? But I just got here?" moaned Edward, eyeing me suspiciously. I could tell that he was unsure why I called him to meet Julian, but it was only a matter of time. Yep, only a matter of time before I'd be dragging Edward out of the hospital and away from the infectious personality of the 11 year old. Edward had a lot of advice to share with Julian, he just didn't know it yet. But once I left, once their mediator was absent, it would force them to speak directly to each-other, and then the communication aspect would be there.

I cared a lot about Julian. I didn't want him to feel down, or to give up hope. I wasn't the only surgeon who believed that hope was more powerful than any scalpel or chemo exposure was. And kids, well, kids were the most resilient of all. Kids could pull through the most outrageous conditions, injuries and accidents and go on to lead perfectly normal lives after-wards. And do you know why? It was because children were prone to optimism, and from this optimism, came hope. I never used to believe in this concept, mostly because I couldn't provide an answer as to _why_ it was the case, but now, after everything, I didn't tend to ask why much anymore. And yeah, that was thanks to Edward.

I continued down the hallways and met with three patients, all of whom I had prepped for surgery for tomorrow. The first one was a lady with a tumor on her lower intestine and the second was a victim of acid reflux syndrome. The third person took up more time because he was admitted to my department after a toy block of lego was discovered in his transverse colon. The fact that that didn't even surprise me was a shock to my intern, who stared at the X-ray for a solid five minutes. Really though, I'd taken bigger-and-badder objects out of weirder and more wonderful organs of certain patients' bodies.

By the time I could break-away from my intern and the remaining surgeons who tried to shift their surgeries over to me, a good twenty minutes had passed and I found myself sprinting in the direction of Julian's room. I bursted through the door and almost stumbled as I entered and gathered my equilibrium. Edward was sitting where I was sitting, on Julian's bed and it seemed as if I'd interrupted them mid-joke. "Sorry I took so long," I panted, dropping my charts onto the bedside table. "Got held up. You guys alright?"

When I turned to look at them, both boys erupted into a fit of laughter at my expense and I couldn't help but laugh along with them. "What's so funny?" I giggled.

"Edward told me about when he made you eat a blow-fish. What were you _thinking_?" Julian guffawed, wiping a tear away. "Oh, and what you said to him in Spanish that time when you thought he was Sofia!"

"'Cause I'm identical to a voluptuous Spanish woman," injected Edward sarcastically.

Julian curled over laughing again and I couldn't help but join in. "Alright you guys, you got me."

"I told you I'd never let you live these things down," quipped my boyfriend, winking at me while angling himself against Julian. I smirked and bit my lip.

"You stayed true to that one." I moved and sat on the other corner of the bed, opposite Edward, and reached forward to ruffle Julian's hair. "You feeling better?"

He glanced at Edward and looked over at me, smiling faintly. "Yeah, way better. You were right Jasper, Edward's pretty awesome."

"Likewise," responded Edward.

"I'm glad you guys hit it off. I knew you would!" I poked both their shoulders at the same time before turning entirely to Julian. "So how about we go for that walk sometime this week? Maybe meet some of the people in the other wards?"

The boy paused and considered my invitation for a moment. His face grimaced at first, but then softened when he glanced over at Edward again and turned his head to look at me. "That would be fun. Would you come with me?"

"Of course."

"Then okay. Having you around will make me look cooler too."

Edward and I chuckled and I scruffed Julian's hair once again. "Well I'm a pretty cool guy."

"Do you really wanna go there?" Edward asked dryly, to which Julian chortled again.

His timing never failed to catch me off guard. "Maybe not." I brought my eyes back to my patient. "So I'll see you later this week?"

"Can't wait," he replied.

I stood up and gave Edward a departing look and he slowly rose to his feet and stretched. I patted my pockets to make sure that I had everything I needed and when I was satisfied that my head was in fact attached to my neck and shoulders, I pulled the covers up to Julian's neck, careful not to move the pillow and reveal his clandestine green notepad, and told Edward that I'd "be out in a few minutes."

He said good-bye to Julian in the form of some secret handshake they'd made up and when the door shut, I kneeled down beside the boy's bed. "I'm always here if you need me. Don't forget that, alright?"

Julian moved forward, wrapped his arms around my neck and held me for a moment. Even though we'd known each other for so long, this was the first time that he ever hugged me. As an 11 year old kid, he was "too old for hugs," and would never have done something like this in public, or in front of Edward at least. I hugged him back before standing up and smiling down at him.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" I asked.

"You bet. Thanks, Jasper."

I pulled up the covers one last time and switched the lights off on my way out. Edward was leaning against the wall beside the door when I got out, and just as it closed, I noticed the light was switched back on inside Julian's room.

"What's he doing in there?" Edward asked, after noticing the light flicking on also.

"Writing," I said. "He has a green notebook that he writes stuff in. He keeps it under his pillow."

"What's in it?"

"No idea," I replied. "He won't show anyone. It's a joke between us now. I ask him if it's his plan to rule the world some day, but he says it's better than that, so who knows?"

Edward shrugged and cupped my hand. "Ready to go home?" he asked. I nodded with affirmation and ambled beside him, not releasing his hand. For some reason, he was quieter than when he arrived at the hospital, and we walked in relative silence until we got into the car, drove home, and stepped in through the front door of my apartment, at which point we were alone as it closed behind us.

"Hey, Jasper?" he asked, his stubbly jaw somewhat protruded and his eyes focused on one place. "How come you never told me about Julian before?"

I shrugged and glanced at him. "Good question. I don't really know. I guess it just never occurred to me. Why?"

"It's just, I never knew you were like that," he said quietly. "I never knew you were doing that for someone. Y'know, for a kid."

I tilted my head and knitted my brows. "Doing what? Be his doctor?"

"No," he responded, his tone low. "Going out of your way to put him under your wing like that. You're so great with him - he looks up to you."

I reached over and massaged the back of Edward's neck with my hand. "Why do you seem sad?"

"I'm not sad," he said, stopping my hand with his own. "I'm just surprised. I'm, ugh, I love what you're doing. For him, it's great."

I stopped and smiled before moving in to kiss his cheek. "I don't do much. He took me under _his_ wing." I rubbed Edward's shoulder and slipped past him, nearing the fridge while calling out, "What do you want for dinner?" But instead of answering me, Edward followed and carried on with the conversation.

"How did you meet him?" he asked, touching my shoulder to steal my attention. My curiosity piqued, I turned around. "He's been my patient for three years," I responded.

"Why's he been there for so long?" Then I flinched, and he stopped, apologized and stroked my wrist. "So why did you call me today? I'm glad you did, I had a blast with Julian, but what made you think of me?"

"What wouldn't make me think you?" I said with levity, sending a grin. "But you want a serious answer, don't you?"

Edward nodded and I coalesced.

"He was having trouble dealing with everyone he's lost. He said that every friend he made at the hospital had died and that he felt a little left behind. I get it, I do, but I hate that I didn't know he was feeling like this sooner. Maybe I could've done something? Damn it." I crunched my lip with my teeth acerbically. "He didn't want to meet anymore people at the hospital incase he'd have to lose someone all over again, so he just cut himself off. But I knew he'd like you, he reminds me of you sometimes, so I thought I'd call you. And it seemed to work - he found a friend in you! He said he was okay with going on a walk to meet other people at the hospital, so it _must've_ worked. Looks like you gave him hope again." I leaned in and placed a kiss on Edward's gristly cheek, itching my lip with my teeth afterwards. "Thanks Edward."

"Fuck, Jasper," he gasped, gripping my shoulder. "You're fucking perfect. You don't even know half the shit you're doing, you just do it, and get on with it. It's beautiful. You're beautiful. Y-you always surprise me."

Feeling the blazing passion from Edward's green eyes, I melted there and then and allowed my breath to turn wobbly.

"Edward? Ugh-"

"No," he interjected, bringing his hand to cup the side of my face and attempt - despite his awkward tendency - to look me in the eyes. "Don't say something to take away from it. I know you Jasper, I know you want to make it sound like nothing when it's not. I watched you and that boy today and how you two are with each other, and when I did, I realized that Emmett was right - you _are_ the best thing that's ever happened to me. Looking at you today made me happy, and it made me want to tell the world that I'm with you. Because I'm proud to be with you, Jasper. I couldn't be more proud."

Without a word, I placed a hand on Edward's chest and pushed him backwards, navigating him silently through the halls and into the bedroom. When the bed was behind him, I pressed my hand forward and knocked him back onto it, without a remark. Then, I unbuttoned my shirt and crawled on top of him as I peeled it from my shoulders.

"Jasper, what're you?-"

I carried my lips to his neck and kissed it softly, causing him to moan and shiver. My hands raked through his hair and I kept him pinned below, unable to move due to my weight above him. I sat up on his chest and began to unfasten his shirt before pulling it off slowly, marveling in the sight of Edward's exposed pecs, pale, defined skin, and lightly dusted abs and nipples. I wrapped my lips around the knobs of his collarbones and rolled my tongue across them slowly, tickling his skin. His moans turned into chuckles, before transmuting into moans once again, and when I brought my teeth to his nipple, the chuckles disappeared entirely and the moans became louder and more passionate.

My mind melted by the words Edward spilled to me, I unclipped his belt with my lips upon his happy trail and slipped his jeans from over his legs. His underwear was stretched over a conspicuous boner and I smiled devilishly before wrapping my fingers around it and tugging it slowly. I watched his abs flex in-and-out, and his stomach contracted and expanded with each wave of pleasure that shocked through his body. I let go then, not of his member but of my restraints, and opened my own belt and began stroking myself in sync with Edward, feeling similar panes of pleasure waft through my body.

I tore Edward's underwear down his legs and watched his cock throb before me. Perfectly shaped; perfectly angled, I wrapped my hand around the base and brought my lips to circle the top. Edward shrieked loudly and buckled upwards, but I wouldn't give him what he wanted so quickly. He maybe knew what he wanted in that moment, but he didn't know what he was in for; what I'd finally consented myself to do.

When I was content with his hardness, I stopped mid-stroke and moved to my bedside table to withdraw a condom. Edward's eyes followed me with shock as I slid it over his cock and lubed it externally.

"Jasper, are you sure?" he panted. "You're ready?"

"I should've been ready sooner," I replied breathily, pulling off the last of my clothes and lubing myself sufficiently.

Edward's eyes remained on my cock and I varied my glance from him, to it. "Fuck, you're so hot, Jasper," he grunted, bringing his hand to apply more lube on himself. I smiled, crawled on top of him once again and leaned down one last time to kiss him passionately. When we broke, I sat back again and slowly lowered myself down upon him. Pain shot through me at first, a pain that almost made me forget about the pleasure that then engulfed my entire body as Edward's cock touched parts of me that only he could touch.

Our bodies in sync and our movements melodic, we swerved against one another and swayed in the direction of pleasure. Edward's cock touched me deeper and deeper and each time it reached that place, I felt my consciousness almost slip. Edward was grunting while one hand explored the valleys of my abs and the shadows of my pecs, while the other daringly circled around the head of my cock. With a tingling and a pleasure that was augmented by a connection to the man below me, I groaned gutturally and brought my own hands to balance upon his hard pecs.

Then, I was thrown onto my back and my lips were overwhelmed by Edward's wanting mouth, as he pressed in and out of me with explorative hands, caressing and touching me gently.

"Oh, Edward," I squealed, feeling him delve further into me.

"You're beautiful," he said, in an interval between raking my lips with his teeth. "You're beautiful, Jasper."

His words pushed me that bit further and I cried out, yelled, and threw my arms either side of me and knocked every pillow on the bed to the floor, while my legs kicked surfaces that I couldn't quite identify. And when I began to climax, with Edward still inside me and his hand jerking me at audible speeds, I shot up the length of my chest and called Edward's name at the top of my lungs.

"Jasper, I'm gonna c-, I'm gonna cum," roared Edward, pounding me relentlessly.

He stayed true to his word, and he came alright. Ripping the condom off, he exploded all over me, the bed, the floor and just about any surface in the vicinity. Some landed in my mouth, not that I minded, and most splattered on my chest. Edward growled and fell on top of me, his chest sticking to mine. His heavy chest sounded animalistic and the firmness of his thighs against me was so masculinely fitting. When the haze of lust began to fade and the weakness of my body began to set in, I melted into the sheets behind me and gasped for air. But the room was imbued with a sticky boyish scent that didn't quite satiate my need for oxygen. Edward rolled off with a huge intake of air and brought his hands to cushion the back of his head. Copying him with a grand inhalation, I gripped onto his side and placed a hand on his chest.

"Jasper," he said, placing his hand on mine and panting deeply. "That was.. incredible."

"_You_ were incredible," I corrected. "I've never had it like that before."

Edward looked at me and chuckled, his voice gravely and thus, ten times more sexy. "You changed the furniture around," he remarked.

"Huh?" I poked my head up and noticed that every pillow and the main duvet had been kicked from the mattress, only to assemble in sporadic heaps of fabric across the floor. I fell back beside Edward and smirked. "Sorry. Got a bit carried away."

"Don't apologize," he muttered, his words smudged as he kissed my face. "I don't care what you do to the room. That was incredible."

I nodded. "Hopefully we didn't scare Ptero too much."

"Or teach him any new words," Edward snickered.

"If he starts sounding like you, you might have some competition," I joked, kissing his chest and trailing my hand across the ripples and muscles that defined themselves upon it. "But then there's the parrot factor. But hey, that's not completely out of the ordinary for you, right, Octoboy?"

Just then, the animalistic Edward rolled on top of me, fastened my wrists either side of me with his hands and glared into my eyes like a cat to a mouse. Watching his pale chest flex against mine would have hardened me again, had it not been for my recent release, and I cheekily bit my bottom lip and glared at him seductively.

"Call me that as much as you like," purred Edward, his scent wafting past me, "but remember it was _you_ I was thinking about that time. So the name's sorta.. inaccurate."

"What _about_ me were you thinking about?" I challenged, smirking lustfully.

Edward grunted mirthfully and half-smiled. "This," he said, thumbing my bottom lip and caressing my face. "And this," he added, moving his thumb down to circle my nipple. I chuckled and bit my lip again, feeling rejuvenated enough to sport a revived erection. He brought his mouth to suck on my adams apple, before exclaiming, "and this too." I breathed heavily and cast out my breath shakily.

"I can't again, we only just-"

Edward snarled wryly. "Wanna bet?"

His hand descended to rest on my dick and I jumped to life. Before I could quite think about what was happening, I was getting the most surprising - yet appreciated - handjob in my entire existence, and found that grunts were already forming themselves in my exhalations. The sheets inhaled me and Edward pumped me viciously, murmuring growls in my ear while I began to slur and moan loudly once again.

I really didn't think I had the physical capacity to go at it twice, but apparently, I was wrong. I felt the pressure pressurize at the head of my cock and my hips needing to buckle forward before my entire consciousness focused in one place - a place encompassed by Edward's palm - and I called out as his hand finished me off melodically.

"Damn," he purred, raising his industrious hand to look at the mess. "How long's it been? Decades?"

"Centuries," I panted. "At least since something like that."

Edward smiled and brushed his lips against mine. "So I did okay?"

I glanced at his hand and smirked. "More than okay. You did great." I yawned, then, and wiped my eyes with the backs of my hands. "You even took everything out of me."

"Literally," he quipped under his breath, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into him. My eyelids began to flicker and although trying my best to stay awake, I conceded to my drowsiness and drooped my head upon Edward's chest. I heard faint snores through-out the rest of the night coming from him, and for those six hours that I slept, I had never been more relaxed, and more comfortable, in my entire life.


	17. Catch 22

Good day everyone! Thought I'd leave a little message on this one, as always. As you know, things have been hectic for me but luckily, it seems that things will soften a bit in July, so expect many a chapter around then :-). However, it's possible that Morphine will be finished by July - yikes! Well, probably not, but it's hard to call. Anyway, this is a long chapter so I do hope it makes up for the slow updates. For all of you who enjoy the hospital/medical action, I came back to that aspect of Jasper's life in this chapter so I hope you enjoy. But for all you romance and drama seekers, fret not either. Enjoy the roller-coaster that is this chapter.

I'd also like to say that I will be going through and editing Morphine when it's finished; as a lot of you know, many mistakes can elude the eyes of a beta-less fanfictioner. So if anyone sees any typos through-out the story, please PM me so I can make a change or two. Or five. Or ten. Or six hundred.

Disclaimer: Real Twilight doesn't have Julian's sass. And that would be because real Twilight isn't Morphine Twilight.

Enjoy!

* * *

Bacon? Was that _bacon_? Oh my- that _was_ bacon! I threw myself out of the bed, fell onto the floor, rolled around for a couple of seconds and shambled to the kitchen where Edward stood before the stove, shirtless, frying none other but the perfection that was, in fact, bacon. The fact that I hadn't eaten in about two days was the sole reason for my canine attraction to the smell and the reality that Edward was the one who was in a position to satiate my hunger, well, that made it even better.

I tumbled to the table and shuffled down upon a chair, pulling myself upright as the divine approached me with a plate of ambrosia. Smiling, Edward lowered the plate down and I almost took his hand off to inhale its contents. When it was cleared and I'd counted how many saturated fats I'd sent into my blood stream, I licked my teeth and smiled at Edward messily, my eyes still burdened with the aftershocks of a deep sleep. I leaned over the table and pecked him graciously, wrapping my hand around his neck to pull him into me, before leaning back and ensconcing myself back in my seat.

"What was that for?" asked my boyfriend with a grin, his hair and stubble untamed.

I smirked. "For being the best. And for making bacon."

"When's the last time you ate?" he asked through a chuckle, his expression awry. "You ate that in, what, thirty seconds?"

"Twenty two and a half," I corrected. "Don't question the surgeon. You'll never win." I winked cheekily and leaned back on the chair.

"What was that, Jasper? Curves? Brakes? Spanish?" Edward sniggered and stuck his tongue out at me. "Don't question the guy with a killer memory. You'll never win."

Snarling, I folded my arms and forced a grin from forming on my face. "I hope those guys from Men in Black come in here with those flashy things and clear your memory."

Edward chortled loudly and tilted his head backwards. "No man, that would suck. Then I wouldn't remember _you_."

"Oh yeah," I chuckled. "And we wouldn't want that, would we?"

"Not at all."

We continued to make jokes at each other's expense for the next thirty minutes until Edward finished what he was eating and I decided to get dressed and go to work to help Julian walk around the hospital for the day after my rounds.

"What're your plans?" I asked Edward, standing up and slowly moving towards the bedroom.

"I've got a meeting with some guys from work and then I have to meet _the Bastard_ and pay the next installment."

I stopped moving towards the bedroom and floated back towards Edward until my hand fell upon his shoulder and squeezed it. "You want me to come with you?"

"Fuck no," Edward drawled, as if I was crazy for even asking. "I'm not putting you through that. Go to work, tell Julian I said hey."

"But Aro doesn't scare me," I pleaded, with what I perceived to be confidence. "Not anymore, at least. I don't want to let him get you all angry so that you hit him and cause shit to hit the fan." I cleared my throat. "Not that he doesn't deserve it, but what if he does something to you? Drugs you, like that first night?"

"Jasp," Edward drew out, his expression indicative of being touched and frustrated simultaneously. "I've been meeting him every month for ages now. It's nothing new. I give him the envelope, he makes some perverted comment and I walk away. He can't push my buttons anymore, well ugh, not like he used to. I've got you to come home to, so I don't give a shit what he says or thinks."

Melting a bit inside, I slid my arms around his shoulder blades and tucked my head into the niche. "Why don't we just end it with him? Let's go to the police, tell them what he's doing to us and then move on with our lives. What can he do, kill us? Seize our stuff? Poke holes in our condoms?"

Edward snorted at first, grinning with his glassy smile mirthfully, before his expression frosted and his arms slowly slid to his sides. "We _can't_ go to the police," he said with conviction, as if that option never existed in the first place. "He's not humane enough to kill us all and get on with it. He'd kill _one_ of us, and would make the other live with it. Or he mightn't even kill either of us, but maybe my mom, your dad, or my dad instead. This guy's fucked up, Jasp. I don't want you to forget that."

"But if the police arrest him, he won't get the chance to harm anyone," I responded, rubbing my arms after feeling the temperature in the room drop.

Edward huffed with frustration but did not explode with fury. Instead, he motioned me into him and embraced me softly. "It's not just Aro that's the problem," he said quietly, his chin on my head. "If Aro gets arrested, there'll be someone new to replace him - someone worse, probably - and then we'd be in really deep shit. At least with Aro I know who we're dealing with. But screwing 'round with someone whose shots I can't call, it's too risky."

"But they're always going to find a way to put us in debt to them. Why even play by their rules?"

"Because they're the only rules we _can_ play by," he drew out, squeezing me tighter. "When it's over, we can think about something but for now it'll never be over until we pay the debt. Believe me, Jasp. I've done this before."

I remained silent, a liquid in Edward's arms, with only '_And yet it's still not over'_ shooting like acupuncture through my mind and future aspirations. And yet these were the six words that I decided not to voice lest they riled Edward up before his inevitable exchange with the devil. He was calm now, his head was screwed on and his mind was in a good place. I didn't want to ruin that. Nope, didn't want to do that _at all_. But I couldn't deny that it felt as if I was the only one who was thinking of the long term here. What would happen after we paid the debt? Would we walk away as free men, holding hands and skipping through a green field together with bunnies, and rainbows and lambs? Maybe I was the cynical one here but surely Edward could see that we were simply _investors_ in this gang's group? They fool us into debt and then threaten us to pay. Maybe we were involuntary benefactors to their corrupt causes, but we were benefactors nonetheless. It was a vicious circle of illusory freedom and recycled chains, and I for one was feeling rather claustrophobic in it.

"Don't worry," Edward said to me, kissing the top of my head and snuggling into my neck. "Everything'll be alright."

I took his word for it. I didn't have a choice. "So where you headed first?" I asked, breathing in the scent that reminded me of last night.

"I've got a meeting, remember?"

"With who?" I asked. "Aro? This early?"

"Nah," he dismissed. "Someone else. I'll tell you about it later."

"Why not just tell me now?" I asked. This wasn't exactly the time for secrecy.

"Because it's a surprise, sorta. Just trust me, I'll tell you later."

My grip loosened and I exhaled shakily, not speaking, but thinking, about my concerns like pages of a book. This was quite a lot of trust he was asking for, but it _was_ Edward, he earned it. It was just a given.

"Jasper," Edward chided, holding me out with his arms and looking at me. "Just trust me, alright? It's a _good_ meeting. Nothing to do with Aro. I just don't wanna to tell you about it 'till tonight. I've got something planned."

I forced a smile, a mirage of equanimity and quelled my concerns and worries with the medicine of Edward's trust. I then asked, soberly, if he would text me when he was finished with both of his meetings to let me know he was alright.

"Of course," he said with certainty. "Don't worry, Jasp. I'll be just fine.

And then he left, while my stomach ached with pains of insecurity, and residual butterflies from the night before.

* * *

My watch, my pager, an energy drink, a pen and a wad of paper-work were all nestled into my arms, hands, pits and chin as I waddled carefully out the door and locked it behind me. I had a checklist in my head of what I needed to bring everyday to work and these tended to be the main objects that I needed to complete a day at the office. With the exception of my energy drink, I would usually have to make a return trip if I forgot any of these things. But since I had to remember the blood types, conditions and urgency statuses of every patient in the general surgery department of St Jay's Memorial Hospital, adding these few necessities to the list shouldn't have been that much of an issue.

Ha.

Good one.

When I looked down, I noticed that my right shoe was absent from my foot and this explained why my equilibrium was one-sided for an unexplainable duration while getting ready to leave. I rolled my eyes and fidgeted for my keys in my left pocket. My aforementioned energy drink slipped from the curve of my armpit, crashed to the ground with a rattle and I cursed myself for bringing it - the one expendable item on my list - in the first place. As I reached down shakily to pick it up, my pen slid from my top pocket, tapped my hand and caused me to release my folder of paperwork. Just then, everything I possessed came crashing from my grasp and crumbled to the floor with a cluttered madrigal. The noise was followed by the snap of a locked door and as I peered up, semi-crouching and mourning the possessive loss of my needed items, Emmett stood before me with a befuddled expression pressed upon his face.

"Ugh, you okay there?" he asked, an eyebrow cocked.

I smiled goofily and wobbled to my feet, leaving my stuff spread across the floor. "Emmett!" I cheered, my face stretched and bright. "How are you?!"

"Ugh, good, I guess," he replied incredulously.

I took a liberal step forward and comically punched his shoulder, as he always did to me. "Just good? C'mon, tell me what stupid thing you've been up to? Or do I have to go first?"

"Jasper, I have to go, I'm in a hurr-"

"Spit out!" I chuckled, punching him again. "Don't hold it all back, tough guy."

"No, I'm serious. I was just leaving." He angled away from my touch, took a step back and brought his hands to his side. I cocked my head, then, and watched him blankly, waiting for him to burst into laughter and punch me or do something that was reminiscent of how we were - of our old tendencies. But I received no such reaction; simply an aloof glare that a stranger on the street would pay me.

"Em, I've been meaning to call and talk to you, really, I have. But things have been crazy lately. Well, a whole lot less crazy thanks to you, but still crazy." I giggled awkwardly and stroked the back of my head. "You know how it goes at work, right? Never a dull moment!"

"Right. I better go," he said whilst clearing his throat and turning around. "Tell Ptero I said hey." I didn't expect him to turn his back to me and amble stiffly down the hall without any further regard. The distance, both figuratively and literally, struck various chords of concern with me, and just as his square head began to bob below the final step within my sight, I called out to him.

"Em!" I projected, waving my arms. "Come back, please. I need to talk to you."

"Busy," he called back, stopping momentarily and continuing on again.

"With what?"

"Things."

"What things?"

"I'm meeting people, friends and I'm going places. Not that it's any of your business," he snarled, stopping again.

"Meeting who?" I questioned. "Going where? Dammit Em, you don't even have a car!"

Footsteps then came marching up the steps and stomped towards me aggressively like a moving steel tripod. He stopped when his chest touched against mine and his neck and head towered over me. I hadn't noticed how much taller he was until now. I squirmed awkwardly and cleared my throat.

"I don't need your car _or_ your permission to do something or go somewhere. I've got a life of my own. I've got other friends, you know," said Emmett, his chest wide and his chin out. He was obdurately stiff, like a totem-pole three times my height, and I took a step back not to be placed off balance. "I've got lots of things to do that don't have anything to do with you, so how about you mind your own business while I find a new apartment to rent?"

Admittedly, I had to swallow the pain that his words shot into me but my face gave me away and I grimaced sourly. "I know you've got other friends," I said gently. "And I know you've got a life of your own. I never said you didn't. I just want to talk. Drive with me to the hospital, we can talk on the way?"

"What part of 'I've made plans' don't you get? I'm not going to just cancel them for you."

Amidst a pause, I cleared my throat and watched Emmett carefully. He tried to hold my eyes for as long as he could until he broke, sighed and allowed his chest to deflate and his hands to wipe past his face. "Fine, so I _don't_ have any plans, but I was going to make some. Or, well, _find_ some. And you can't stop me."

I stepped back. "Go right ahead. But I'll stand here and wait for you to come back."

We dueled in another stare-off until Emmett back-stepped away and reached the threshold of the stairs, turned around, hopped down the steps and halted abruptly halfway. Then he slowly ascended backwards and ambled over to me again, his stubbornness eroded. "Be quick. Say what you want to say."

I took a breath and brought my hands to my side. "Thank you."

There was a pause and it didn't end. It just lingered between us heavily, imbued in the absence and lack of words.

"And?" he pushed, wobbling his head.

"And, what?" I asked.

"Thank you? That's it? That's all you have to say?"

"That's all there is to say, Em."

"Not even a-? I don't know, a something? Something more? That's it? Just thank you?"

I smiled faintly, yet wholeheartedly, and rubbed the back of my head. "I could say a lot more if you want. I could say some mushy speech about how much you mean to me as a friend and how I'm sorry about how I treated you these past months. I could say all of that, in a lot more detail of course, and go on and on for hours. But we're close. We get each other. I know just by looking that you know everything I'm thinking. You know I owe it to you that I'm with Edward and you know I'm sorry for being a shitty friend. You knew that before I said anything, and now you know it for sure." I shook my head pensively and brought my eyes to his. "So yeah, all there's left to say is thank you. Thank you for coming through for me, and thank you for being the friend that, well, I couldn't be."

Emmett looked down and drew his eyes across the floor. I tried to stand tall despite the rawness I felt in that silent moment, and as I scanned Emmett's face, I could tell he was feeling the same. I would've said something for the sake of comfortability but Emmett chimed in after clearing his throat.

"So much for not saying a mushy speech," he hummed, his bottom lip curling into his mouth.

The air popped out of me with relief. "Couldn't help it."

"You never can," he mumbled.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. I'm just kidding, jeez." His voice trailed off as he said that and he then instinctively punched my arm. I smiled like a toothless baby.

"I missed you too," I chuckled, lurching forward and hugging my friend like the big toddler he was.

"Okay! Okay!" he cawed. "No need to choke me!"

"Shut up, you like it really!"

"God I hate you."

"See? I told you so."

Despite his calculated struggles against my embrace, he calmed down as I knew he would and pretended to hate that I was treating him the way I used to. Then, when the pushing and awkwardness quelled, I simply enjoyed the moment of hugging my friend after having lost him for what felt like a lifetime. This felt, to use no better word, right. It was exactly how we'd been before everything went wrong between us; before I got horribly inebriated that one night and took advantage - time and time again - of Emmett's loyalty and devotion. There were no mind-games in the air and there were no - whether they were at work or not - ulterior motives looming behind his or my actions. It was just Jasper and Emmett once again, the Batman and Robin of Seattle, being straight up with each other with no reason to enjoy each other's company than genuinely enjoying each other's company. But now I needed to be a better friend; now, I endeavored to be that better friend.

"Seriously dude, you can let go now," Emmett coughed, squirming out from my embrace. "What happened to you? You used to be all puny and weak?"

"Dumbbells, my friend. Dumbbells," I remarked, flexing my arms. "They work wonders."

"Naw, Jasper and his little dumbbells. You have fun with those now - I'm headed to weight lift."

I smiled and punched his much rockier shoulder. "Need a lift, douchebag?"

"Already got one," he said, pointing outside with a smirk. "It's this scrotumless guy I met a few years ago who'll literally do whatever the hell I want."

I cocked an eyebrow and craned my neck to look over his shoulder, only to see an empty car-park. "Where is he? I don't see anyone?"

"_I_ do," Emmett quipped. "He's standing right in-front of me. Get your keys dickhead - and your scrotum while you're at it."

How didn't I see that one coming? I rolled my eyes and snorted loudly. "God I hate you," I sniggered, wrapping an arm around my friend and descending the stairs by his side.

"Ugh, Jasper?" Emmett intoned, just as we got to the car. "How come you're only wearing one shoe? Oh! And you left all your stuff on the floor."

I slapped my face and drew my hands down my chin. "You purposely didn't remind me until now, didn't you?"

"Glad to have me back?" he sniggered.

"Yeah," I breathed out. "Yeah I am."

* * *

After dropping Emmett to the gym, with two shoes upon my feet I may add, I made my way to the hospital at top speed. When I got there, New-Irene - whose name decided to be "Marie" - went out of her way to reprimand me for my lateness. If I cared, I would've hopped right up on my conceited high horse but because firing a counter insult her way would've been similar to shooting an injured pheasant, I decided to just choose my battles for a better time.

I was instructed to visit Ms. Margins, my smoking-84-year-old-potty-mouthed patient with an intern-worthy cyst in her gut. I of course ignored these demands and headed right up to Julian's ward despite the glares I received behind from the nursing staff when they saw me blatantly defy their orders. If only they knew that Edward had taught me how to get a kick out of it when people got so high-strung with self-importance.

It was no surprise that Julian was writing in his green notebook when I entered and he quickly shuffled it behind his pillow and lay back to guard it at all costs. I leaned against the wall and crossed my legs.

"So when are you going to show me what's in that?" I asked, eyeing the green corner projecting out of the pillow. Julian jerked and covered all exposed parts of the cover with his back and folded his arms.

"When I can't possibly protect it anymore!" he said confidently, thumbing his chest.

"Sooo, never?"

"I wouldn't say _never." _

_"_Then when?" I said with a smile.

"How about when I'm all better and can finally go home, I'll leave it behind."

"Well!" I chortled, pacing around the room. "That's a change! Maybe I can learn a few things from it!"

"Never! It's all stupid stuff."

"I wouldn't say _never_," I quipped. "Your words, not mine."

"Is that what you do at surgeon school? Learn how to play with kids' minds?" He tilted his head with mirthful accusation and smiled devilishly.

"Yes, amongst other things. We're also taught how to make people walk. Wanna see?"

I stepped forward to the side of the bed and extended my hand. "Ready to see what's outside again?"

Julian struggled for a moment and grimaced, but he looked at me for a second and his expression changed drastically and he smiled with contained glee. "Where'll we go?"

"I was thinking you could do some rounds with me and then we could go to the café?" I opened my schedule and scanned it. "Looks like I'm in the clinic today. Nothing too hectic! I could bring you there?"

Julian's face transmuted into one of shock and excitement. "Does that mean I get to do surgeries with you? See all the action?"

I chuckled. "Well you'll see _some_ action but it's just the clinic, you won't have to cover your eyes or anything."

"Aw, dang it," he cursed, twiddling his nose. "I thought I'd see something _huge_."

"Baby steps," I said with a wink. "Literally, too. Let's get you walking."

My patient raised from the bed and I drifted away to search for some shoes or slippers for him. I insisted that he wear a sweater due to the draughts that often wafted through the halls sporadically, but I faced much opposition on Julian's behalf, as he assured me that he was okay with just a T-shirt. I knew that the treatment for his cancer would keep his body temperature low and he'd feel the cold when he got accustomed to the world beyond the sheets. So I brought his sweater along and mentally marked where the wheel-chairs were down the corridor, lest the exhaustion struck him at some stage.

When we got outside, many patients were strolling up and down the halls and Julian was glad to be just one of them, and not highlighted in any way. The scene looked a bit like an aquarium; shoals of off-duty interns circulated around corners, continually on edge in the presence of larger entities like surgeons, who navigated the halls like divine sharks with definitive locations engraved as targets in their minds. In the peripherals, like sea urchins in an ecology of their own, were the nurses who contributed to the running of the environment through thankless and discreet tasks. And following the rippled trails of the surgeons, were the anesthesiologists, who scurried behind their superiors like smaller sub-species that tended to the same locations. And finally, there was Julian, hidden from acknowledgement due to illness. He pulled himself across each tile below with stoic, yet feeble strength, like an aged turtle with a brittle shell that swiped its fins to progress from one region to another in search of something, or somewhere, new despite the histories that lingered in the horizontal blurs of the dark, shapeless and distant blues of the vast aquatic realm.

But ironically it wasn't a competition for survival. Well, it was in a literal sense but not when you looked at nature of how this place operated. This place where I worked was the sole societal safe-haven for those at the bottom of the food-chain - the plankton of the pyramid. And this was thanks to we humans, who were the only earthly beings that actually stopped in the tracks of evolution to consider those of ourselves floundering behind us. We were remarkable, weren't we? Our willingness, be we the plankton or the great whites, to better ourselves by either slowing down or speeding up for others relative to our circumstance was an incredible trait for us to innately retain.

"Hey Jasper, look how fast I'm walking!" cheered Julian, who scurried ahead of me with a gleeful and careless smile.

This is why I was a surgeon. It was what it represented; what a hospital represented. It was a place for the strong to backtrack and help the weak, despite our animalistic coding that plotted every man in interest of himself. It was a place that, despite its nature, defied science and medicine in many ways. It stood as proof for what separated us from the beasts that roamed the African plains. Professions of any medical persuasion were examples of the progression of human ethics, morality, everything that defined us. I did what I did to help others, like Julian, reach every possible goal in their lives without illness restricting them in doing so.

I caught up to my patient and placed my hand on his back. "Don't run off too quickly, little man. I don't want you getting lost in this place."

"Lost? Pfft!" he grumbled mirthfully, "I used to know this place like the back of my hand!"

"Alright fine, but at least run in the direction of the clinic. Do you know where that is?"

"Beat ya to it!" Julian cheered, scurrying off in the correction direction. I stopped walking for a moment, smiled and then continued on, meeting my patient at the doors of our mutual location. I signaled Julian inside and upon my entry, three nurses summoned me to a patient behind a set of blue curtains. When I poked my head in, I asked if it was alright if Julian joined us, and the patient agreed. I gave Julian little jobs to do like holding my chart while I searched for something, or allowing him to wear my stethoscopes. Sometimes I just made up jobs for him to do to keep him occupied and exaggerated the importance of the role. As I was talking, he was jotting down notes or pictures or something of the likes in his green notebook and from the corner of my eye, I could see him copying and practicing the way I stood or my hand mannerisms. Sometimes I would say a word, and I would hear him repeat it under his breath as a whisper, as if to experiment with how it sounded in his mouth.

My diaphragm tickled each time I spotted him mimic me and even the patient who had given his consent to Julian occupying his space sent endearing grins towards the boy when he realized what he was up to.

"So you're having trouble making a fist with your hand?" I asked the patient, who was busy smiling at Julian.

"Ah, yes," he said, raising his hand and attempting to close it. "It stings when I try to do this! _Ouch_!"

I steadied his hand by holding his wrists. "Don't push too hard," I advised. "Now squeeze my finger and tell me when you can't squeeze any tighter." The patient could barely bring the blood to my finger-tip and I advised him that his hand was broken, to which he blamed on a run-in with the door of his car. I assured him that everything was going to be alright and turned to Julian. "Wanna do something cool?" I asked, my face mischievously devious.

"Do I? You bet!"

"Run out to that nurse, see the one beside the telephone?" I pointed between the curtains. "Tell her to page Ortho for Mr. Harrison here."

"What does _that _mean_?" _asked a wide, gleamy eyed Julian.

I chuckled. "You get to call over all the bone doctors."

Open mouthed and jaw-slacked, Julian floated out of the room and gently tugged on the nurse's coat. She smiled at him and glanced over his shoulder to send me a nod before turning back to engage him again. Julian came skipping back to me with wonder and awe swirled across his face. Not two seconds later did the Ortho team arrive and I was excused from the patient with a pat on the shoulder.

"What'll happen to him?" Julian asked, scratching his head as he observed the bone doctors surround Mr. Harrison and wheel him away to a different department.

"He'll get a nice cast around that hand of his," I said, watching the Ortho team disappear. "We call those doctors piranas because they love digging into all those bones and marrow and stuff. I don't know how they do it - bones give me the creeps. That's why I like General surgery. It's all organs."

"Organs sound more gross to me," Julian said plainly, folding his arms. "What other types of doctors are there?"

"Hmm, where to start?" I gasped, folding my arms and raising my eyes into thought. "You know what? Why don't we find out on the way? Part of this job is sending patients to certain departments. I'll explain as we go."

I led Julian to a new pair of curtains and this time, we were faced with a patient who claimed to have severe strepthroat. As easy as the lady could have made my job, I couldn't take her self-diagnosis as hard material and so I did my own search and concluded that she had a bad case of tonsillitis. I turned to Julian. "So who do you think I'm going to call?"

"Umm, I dunno. A neck doctor?"

I chortled and ruffled his hair. "I guess you could call it that. Run up to that same nurse and tell her to page Otolary."

"Page what?" he asked, his brows knitted with confusion. "Say it slower?"

"O-to-lary," I cooed, slowly, exaggerating the vowels.

"And what does that mean?"

"It's short for Otolaryngology, throat doctors and stuff, but Otolary will do. Go ahead, I'll wait here."

Julian shrugged and smiled and ran off to the nurse. He tugged her coat again and she smiled, supposedly taking a liking to him. I watched proudly with my arms folded and would have turned to engage the patient in a conversation regarding her diagnoses had Edward not texted me and said, "finished both meetings an hour ago. I told you I'd be alright! Missin' you already xxx." A dumbbell ascended from the back of my mind and I settled down into myself with ease. At least I didn't have to spend another day with a halved consciousness - one half here with Julian and the other occupied with worries over Edward. I slid my phone into my pocket just as the youngster came trotting back to me.

"Done!" he declared, his face bright. "I think I said it wrong but the lady understood. Where to next?"

"Pick a curtain," I chuckled, as the Otolary team wheeled the most recent patient away. After a decision was made, Julian and I headed to his curtain of choice and slipped inside. This patient complained of having sudden and spontaneous migraines over the course of two weeks. Julian asked what a migraine was and I quickly explained.

"Have you suffered from these symptoms before?" I asked the man, flicking off boxes in my chart that corresponded to his answers.

"I barely get headaches, never-mind something like this," he wailed, circling his temples. "But this one came out of nowhere and it hurts so bad. I can't even see straight."

I had to ask him the usual questions, too. "Do you smoke? Drink? On any kind of prescription medicine?"

"Don't shmoken and no drinkers in medication," the man slurred, his expression unwavering.

I stopped in my tracks and urgently brought my eyes to asses the man. "Sir? Are you alright?" I placed the chart on the bed and moved to feel his forehead.

"I'm just fi-fine. It's fine here." Just then, his head drooped to the side and he fell backwards limply and slid down the bed-frame. Julian gasped and looked at me like I was an emergency. I dashed to the man's side.

"Shit!" I called. "He's having a seizure. Julian, go back to your room _now_!"

"B- but I can help? What can I do?"

"No! Go now!" It started with a slight jerk of his neck before the man was in his convulsions in my arms, his limbs flipping around my shoulders and his legs tossing the bed-sheets into the air. As I tried to contain the man in a position that would not harm neither him nor I, my attention was stolen by the eleven year old, who stood stiffly at the other end of the bed.

"Julian, go! This is serious. I'll find you later, okay? But you have to go!" An arm came to slap into my cheek and Julian shrieked. "_Now_!"

I pinned down the man's arms but his head continued to jitter and rock uncontrollably. I kicked open the curtains and shouted to the nurses. "Call Neuro! Tell them it's an emergency and to bring some braces." And despite the legs that were swerving through the air like tossed pieces of spaghetti and the kneecaps that were coming in inches of bursting my lips, I called out to a lone nurse in the adjacent room. "Excuse me? Sorry, can you escort him back to his room? He's in General Surgery but he knows where his room is. Just make sure he settles in," I said between intervals of taming the wild arms and legs, flicking my head towards Julian. The woman nodded duly and grabbed Julian's hand. "Come on, let's go back to your room," she said, pulling him from the scene. The boy was too fixed on the seizing man to struggle against her and she pulled him away slowly. Although Julian never broke eye-contact from the neuro patient.

Then the seizure got worse and the patient began to curl into me and horn me with the top of his head, knocking the air slightly out of my lungs as he did so. The nurses crowded around and each subdued a limb. Then, the seizure was contained to his chest and began to slowly mitigate. The neuro team didn't arrive for a good ten minutes (they were a stubborn lot) and then it took another ten minutes to fill them in on what happened, the man's medical history and the symptoms he was complaining about prior to the seizure. I guessed that it was a tumor or a clot but I wasn't a neurosurgeon - I could only speculate to a specific point before I'd be guessing like any other person.

_Unless_?

"Check his blood-sugar," I said to a nurse, reaching for the man's hand and squeezing the blood to his finger.

"What're you doing?" asked a symphony indignant neurosurgeons. "This is _our_ patient now. You paged us!"

"If this man is having a type one diabetic related _hypoglycemia_," I responded, my anger a little bit poked by their tone. "then he is very much _my_ patient."

"He had head-aches - this is a neuro related problem," said one of the surgeons. I shrugged at him and kept the patient still. The nurse arrived back with a glucometer and I checked his blood. It came to 19.8 units; I was right. He was diabetic.

"Get the glucogon and then put him on a steady supply of liquid glucose," I said to a nurse, who nodded in affirmation. "And then wheel him to my department. I'll monitor him."

When I was certain that _my_ patient was stable, I took a breath and made my way back to General Surgery, stopping in the bathroom on my way to asses any bruises on my face. There was a nice spotty red mark forming on my cheek where the patient had knuckled me and I splashed water on it to cool it off. I'd deal with it later.

As I navigated back the way Julian and I came, I noted how much longer it took this time around; having a kid by my side appeared to make me walk faster! I smiled to myself and ambled onwards, my mind occupied by its own thoughts. For the most part, I was thinking about how pompous neurosurgeons were; just because they worked with the brain - one organ, I may add - they thought that their specialization was the be all and end all. They were so overrated, if you asked me. Working on intestines was just as difficult as poking at some wrinkles on a brain so I didn't understand where this cockiness was coming from. I marched triumphantly forward with a wide chest and commended myself for catching that the patient was diabetic.

So maybe I was the cocky one. Heh, took one to know one!

I was tempted to stop by the café to pick up something for Julian to make him feel better. Even though he _thought_ he wanted to see real medicine at work, the seizure he witnessed was far too excessive for his eyes. I knew he liked the green tea that the café stocked and as I was about to head in that direction for his sake, a nurse tipped me on the shoulder.

"Excuse me Dr. Whitlock," she said. "Just thought I'd let you know that your patient Julian Hart just had a visitor, so if you haven't gotten to him on your rounds yet, maybe you could put him towards the end?"

A visitor? I racked my brains to think of who would come to see him; his parents almost always arranged specific dates for their arrival and he never mentioned having any cousins or siblings or anything like that.. _unless_..

_Edward_? I smiled gleefully. "Did the visitor say who he or she was?" I asked, tilting my head.

"Yes actually," said the nurse. "He said he was his uncle! He seemed to know him so I sent him in. Why? Is that okay?"

"Perfectly fine. Thanks for telling me."

The nurse walked off and I chuckled mischievously. Edward was so bold to appear unannounced! But his timing couldn't have been more perfect - he was exactly who Julian needed for a cheering up. I found myself skipping towards Julian's ward with a grin as potent as my last patient's seizure smeared across my face. I stopped by the bathroom to fix my disheveled hair and groom it the way I knew Edward liked it and then I continued on, popping open the door to Julian's room with excitement. I could hear him giggling from outside the door and I knew that Edward was working his magic already. He was great like that.

"Edward!" I chuckled. "If the nurses didn't give you away, I probably would have come in with some Spanish again!"

Then, the giggling stopped and all voices in the room came to a sudden halt. Julian was sitting upright on the bed with his back to me, concealing Edward's face. I smiled and stepped forward.

"What're you guys up to? Hide and seek?" I hummed, craning my neck to view my boyfriend.

Julian turned around upon hearing my voice and signaled me over. "Jasper, you're back! Look who came to visit me!" He shuffled to the other end of the bed to clear my view and expose Edward's face.

But it wasn't Edward at all.

My legs almost collapsed out from under me and bile swirled in the base of my throat. "What are you doing here?" I said slowly, as if my words were poisonous.

"I just came to say hello to our little friend here," said Aro, standing up and giving Julian a wink. "It's me, _uncle_ Aro!"

"Julian, come here," I said, trying with every force within me to stay calm for his sake. "Just come stand beside me."

"But it's cold out there," Julian said, shuffling under his sheets and shivering. "You were right, this hospital is pretty freezing!"

I gulped.

"That's right," Aro said, at the border of a whisper and a sound. "Stay in bed where it's warm."

"Hey Jasper, how come you never told me about your friend Aro before?" asked Julian, a smile licked across his face. "How come you know so many cool people? First Edward and now him! You're so lucky!"

Aro cackled loudly. "Yes, well Dr. Whitlock is very lucky to have such wonderful friends. _Aren't_ you, Jasper?"

"Outside," I croaked to Aro. I wasn't afraid. That's what I told myself.

"But it's cold out there," Aro protested, that snake-like smile never fading from his dark red lips. "Julian said it himself."

"He's right on that one," said my patient naively. "You were right Jasper, I should've listened and worn that sweater - _Burr_!"

"Outside," I reiterated aloofly, my eyes fixed on one place.

Julian watched me peculiarly and then looked over at the man beside him. Aro returned his glance. "I guess I'm being summoned!" he cackled. "Enjoy the heat while you have it, Mr. Hart! And remember those of us who are out in the cold."

Julian didn't respond but instead watched my face with confusion. It was clear to me that he wished to know what had made me go stone cold, but I couldn't and wouldn't explain this to him; he needed to be sheltered, and it was my duty to get this monster away from him, and the entire home for the sick as well. Aro came slithering out of the room and stopped at the egress to say "after you," to me in the gassiest and most rodent-like manner. I snarled and slipped out ahead of him and drifted to the side.

When he shut the door and turned to face me, I noticed - this time- how much shorter he was. Except, this didn't console me. All of a sudden, I, who was a shark and an entity at the top of the food-chain, suddenly felt like a piece of plankton floating in the course of the jaws of a great white. I felt like prey; like an animal circled by vultures - or _a_ vulture, at least.

"How wonderful to see you again!" said Aro, slithering into my side. "You've gotten much bigger since I last saw you."

"What do you want?" I hissed, folding my arms. "Why are you here talking to my patients? That boy is very ill and he doesn't need you lingering around."

"Why why! What would I _possibly_ do wrong in a hospital? You have such low expectations of me. I _am_ quite disappointed, dear Jasper."

"Either shut your mouth and leave or tell me why you're here," I growled. "Edward paid you today so why are you hovering around me?"

"You and Edward are finally honest with each other now? Hmm, how nice. It took a long time didn't it? Edward was such a secretive little boy, so many problems, so little trust. Quite a pity! But you've taught him how to express himself, I suppose? You're his moral compass, are you? Is that what you call it these days? I hear you're the best thing that's ever happened to him." He sniggered owlishly and kept his black, beady eyes fixed upon me.

"Your spies are still lurking around then?"

"Spies? Oh no, no, no! What do you take me for, dear Jasper? I have no spies - simply whistleblowers. Shadows in the corners that stumble upon your actions, your words."

"Quit your bullshit, Aro. Why are you here?" I gritted my teeth with agitation. My fingernails embedded themselves in my palms.

"I come with news, if you must know. Lots and lots of news. Would you like to hear it?"

"Do I have a choice?" I snarled.

"Do we _ever_ have a choice? Choice never really exists, it's an illusion. But I do commend you on your fast adaption to our ways. That being said, I'm afraid I must _insist_ you listen."

I braced myself bitterly and clenched my folded arms together so concretely that they resembled a shield. Then, I held my breath. Aro's smug face and his tendency to draw out long, torturous pauses threw me on edge.

"The first piece of news," he started, smiling with ratty teeth, "is that Edward has gotten complacent! It seems he forgets how well connected I am."

"He never forgets," I growled, remembering my conversation with him this morning.

"Well he forgot this one particular time," stated the rat, with a cunning smile. "Do you know where he went today?"

"To see your pinched little face," I hissed. "And the rest isn't your business."

"Aha! Well I'm afraid I've _made_ it my business. Where Edward went today was to see a lawyer."

I pretended that I was well informed. "Yeah, and?"

"Do you know what it was about?"

"That's none of your business."

"I'd be very surprised if you _did_," he commented, his smile reptilian. "I'll continue on as if you don't."

I nodded and took a shaky breath. "Go on."

"Edward must really be attached to you because after he met me, he went to his lawyer to change his will. I for one didn't even think that Edward had a lawyer, but wasn't I wrong? Well, this is where it gets interesting my dear Jasper! Edward changed his will to make you the sole recipient of all his assets. That is, assets I knew nothing about."

Fear whistled through me. What was Edward doing? Was this the surprise he mentioned earlier? Why would he want me to have everything he owned? And moreover, if he owned anything, why didn't he sell it to pay off Aro? I suddenly felt smaller than a piece of plankton, and rather, a subspecies of plankton that was targeted by larger plankton themselves. My legs wobbled and my throat bobbed.

"You had no idea, did you?" Aro remarked, studying my face. "Oh my! You had no idea! Ahaha! Well this is _glorious_! If only I could borrow your thoughts, how I would love to feel what you are feeling right now!"

"Shut the fuck up," I growled, my voice cracking. "Shut the _fuck_ up."

"Please, Mr. Whitlock. May I remind you that we are in a hospital?"

I swallowed my impulse to attack the runt there and then because I needed more information. I needed to know what was going on. I folded my arms even tighter. "Where are you going with this?"

"Ah yes. Bring me back to my point. I like that! I like you! I like those of an articulate tendency. But then again you _are_ a surgeon."

"Get _on_ with it," I growled.

"As you wish. Well, Jasper, as you see, Edward duped me also. I also had no idea that he had assets elsewhere. But it is hardly fair that he failed to mention this to me, would you agree?"

"So you didn't know. You really expected him to tell you? Go to hell Aro. Edward has his code, I'm sure he had his reasons for not telling me. And if _I_ didn't know, did you really think _you_ would?"

"Neither here nor there," Aro dismissed with a grin. "Because those assets _will_ be mine."

"They're Edward's, and we're paying your debts. They are nothing to do with you," I groused, clenching my fists.

"One out of three, I'm afraid," Aro giggled. "Yes you _are_ paying the debts. That much is right, but when you say that those assets are Edward's and that they are nothing to do with me - well, on those basis, you are very _wrong_. I remind you that _you_ are the owner of these assets if anything were to happen to Edward, and the very fact that Edward lied to me and did not mention these other possessions of his to me, is illegal in my books."

"Illegal?" I laughed. "_You_ are enforcing the law here?"

"In a sense, yes," Aro cooed. "Let me explain Jasper. I run a business. I have run this business for a very long time and there are important people who work for me, rely on me. Now if you know anything about a business, you'll know that it operates upon a healthy relationship of respect between the authority and its operatives. The authority, namely me, has to set certain examples to keep order within the business and so I cannot allow certain precedences to be set." He grinned and exposed his reptilian mouth once more and blinked far too many times. "The very fact Edward managed to elude this information from me has upset this relationship I mentioned. Edward is one of these examples in need of being set, Jasper, and I cannot allow him to get away with this. He _will_ be punished for not telling about these assets. Or at least, somebody will."

"W-what are you saying?" I stuttered.

"I'm giving you a chance!" Aro gasped dramatically, raising his arms either side of him. "I'm giving you a chance to go and make things right again. Will you do this?"

"Define 'make things right,'" I said shakily.

"It's very simple," said Aro, his eyes blackening and gleaming like dark onyx. "You make sure that Edward keeps those assets in your name. You do not convince him to take you off of his will, you simply make sure that things stay the way they currently are."

I laughed acerbically and held back a tear. "And _then_ what would you have me do? Take on even more debt for whatever reason?"

"Quite the contrary. The last thing I would have you do would be a task that your life is contingent upon. Although your name is on the will, you do not legally own anything until Edward is.. gone. I ask you to think back to when I mentioned setting an example for the sake of my operatives and the respect they have for me - Jasper, then I'd have you kill Edward. When you do this, the assets will be yours and you shall sign them over to me. Then, I'll clear you of all debt and you'll never see me again." Then, those black onyx eyes, if it was even possible, blackened even further and churned with a deep rooted fury that bubbled through thick, tarry irises. His eyes were like mirky swamps and I was submerged in their soupy sands. "But Jasper, if you fail in this, tread lightly. You can just as easily be made an example of in the place of Edward."

Aro smiled menacingly and licked his teeth. "I'll expect an answer from you within 48 hours with your decision. In the mean time, have a wonderful night, Jasper. And sleep well." He angled away, flicking his coat as he did so, and walked royally down the halls and leaving me like a wall stripped of paint, standing nakedly in the busy halls of a place that was supposed to _heal_ people. My world caved in on top of me and I bolted to the bathroom. Kicking the door shut behind me, I heaved into the toilet and expelled every ounce of contents from my stomach. I fell over the side of the bowl and wiped my mouth with the side of my sleeve and leaned against the wall.

As the ceiling began to spin and the separate tiles began to merge, all I could remember were Edward's words from before and they floated through my mind like brittle leaves pushed along by the wind: _"He's not humane enough to kill both of us and get on with. He'd kill one of us and would make the other live with it."_ I couldn't do this; I couldn't every lay a finger on Edward - he was the best thing to ever happen to me. And although I only had 48 hours to decline Aro's offer, they would be the longest 48 hours I would ever keep something from Edward.

For his sake, I would not tell him about this.

* * *

Driving home was the most difficult thing I had to do. I often found that when things went wrong (and although this situation transcended the definition of this adjective,) I would turn to philosophy. It was a coping mechanism I'm sure, but the dangerous thing about philosophy was that it didn't give you any hard answers, just speculative ones. And from this absence of definitive answers, came doubt and before you knew it, you were immersed in a tumult of unanswered questions: Why did this happen? How could I get out of this? Was this really happening? What were my options? Was I dreaming?

When I got home to Edward, well.. When I got home to Edward, all I could really say was _twigs and glue_. That was what was keeping me together when I faced him. I had to pretend I knew nothing of his exchange with the lawyer and that I knew nothing of these other assets. But I wanted to ask him so much and I was restricted. Why did he put these supposed assets in my name? Why didn't he sell them to pay for Carlisle's surgery and then never put us in this situation to begin with? Where did he get these 'assets' and what were they? What was going on?

I tried to push color into my pallid face when I came in the door. Edward was sat at the table, with candles, table clothes and dim lights. Ptero and Bierce Fitch were put to bed and the house was spotless. And Edward, well, he looked flawless. He wore the same charcoal shirt, buttoned at the wrists with two silver cuffs and between his pecs, hung a long, thin black tie; it was the same outfit he wore the night we kissed.

"E-Edward," I said quietly. "What's all this?"

"This is for you," he said, circling my wrist wit his hands and drawing me into his chest. "I have something to tell you tonight."

"You do?" I stuttered, trying to blink the water from my eyes. "What is it?"

"Come over here."

I was led to the table and was brought to the chair opposite Edward's. The candle separated us, again, and Edward had to move it to the side, again, to view me properly. His teeth were stained with the red wine and his lips were inky with the dark blood of the grapes. He asked to hold my hands upon the table-top.

Looking at me with those wide green, shimmering eyes, Edward leaned over the table, brushed his lips against mine, and lowered back into his chair again. "Remember when I told you I was having that _good_ meeting today?" he said, all breathily with his hands entangled in mine.

"Y-yes," I said, supporting my decorum with a strength I didn't know I had.

"It was with a lawyer," he apprised, smiling alluringly. "Jasp, I don't think I ever mentioned this before because I was waiting for the right time to do this and tell you about it. Back before Aro was ever part of our lives, my parents bought a home in the countryside in Georgia. They were going to live there but then they decided to stay in Seattle because they couldn't afford to move after what happened to the house here. My parents put the house in my name and it's the last thing that's belonged to me. But today," Edward cleared his throat and began stroking the top of my hand with his thumb, "today, I put it in your name."

I had to act surprised. I wasn't supposed to know this. But I did. I knew it all, before the words came out of his mouth. "Why would you do that?" I asked, unable to make eye-contact.

"Because if anything happens to me, Jasp. I want you to have somewhere safe to go. That's all that's important to me now. if something happens to me, I don't want you living somewhere where Aro or anyone can find you. In Georgia, you can start new, be a new person and nobody has to know who you are. I'd feel better knowing that no matter what happens, you always have that option."

"But what about Aro? You could have sold the house and paid him off?"

"I tried," he admitted, sighing passionately. "I tried to sell it after the house in Seattle caved in and I tried to sell it after my Dad's accident but it wouldn't sell. I didn't even get a single call about it so I just took it off the market and made sure Aro never found out. Luckily he hasn't."

The blood seeped from my face.

"And when we pay off all this debt, maybe you and I can go there together."

"Edward," I said, pressing the air out of me, even though it burned me to do so. "Why're you doing this?"

He smiled pensively, then, and raised my hand to his lips and kissed it. "I love you, Jasper. That's why. I couldn't put words to it for the longest time but that's the truth - and it's been the truth from when I first met you that night in the Spanish bar with Sophia and Emmett. You're always the one to do the talking and I just sit back and listen, so I've had a lot of time to think about everything and I'm certain of it. I love you, and fuck, I've always loved you. And that's why I want you to have this place. Because as long as you're safe, I don't care about anything else." He smiled with his long jagged teeth and bit his apple colored lips. "You okay, babe?"

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," I said, now completely incapable of holding back the two tears that streamed down my cheeks.

"Do you need to hear it again?" he asked, wiping my tears away with his thumb. I didn't say anything, and he went ahead anyway, squeezing my hands.

"I love you, Jasper. Always have. Always will."

And then, well, then I went numb.

_"Jasper, then I'd have you kill Edward."_

_"I love you Jasper. Always have. Always will." _


	18. At All Costs

Bonsoir. Another Morph chapter for you. Hope everything is well with all who are reading! I just wanted to say a huge, gigantic thank you to everyone who's been reading, reviewing and subscribing and especially to those of you who have been reading from the beginning - I really appreciate the kind words and interest in the story. On a side note, I happened to stumble upon the meaning of the name "Aro," and apparently it is Finnish and means "swampy area." Sort of fitting for a slimy character like him, eh? ;-). Anyway, to the disclaimer!

Disclaimer: Edward and Jasper were too preoccupied with Bella and Alice to notice each other in Twilight. So Morphine fixed things up a bit. And there's our second fundamental difference.

_Enjoy_!

* * *

The touch of Edward's pale skin skimming against my flexing and contracted chest sent shimmers from my eyes to my toes. To feel engulfed by a person who thought he was in love with me, when _I_ knew that this love could only exist in the absence of a secret, was a feeling that was emotionally as overwhelming as the physical pleasure and pain that Edward was generating in my body. He groaned passionately, moaned, winced, shivered and howled in the throws of intercourse while I, remaining stagnant and passionless, allowed Edward to toss me like a rag-doll in movements that derived from the consummation of his love for me. His kisses pulled my lips without effort on my behalf and his nibbling of my neck went ghostly unnoticed.

He pressed into me, then kissed me, and sucked on my earlobe and caressed my skin with his soft touch, and embraced me with fervent arms, and raked his fingers through my hair, and called my name an uncountable number of times before inevitably climaxing somewhere. He fell back beside me, sent indiscernible emotions through me with "I love you," and darkened into a deep sleep, nestled into me.

I counted fifteen swirls in the patterns of the ceiling. Well, sixteen if you counted the one that merged into the other one. I gave up trying to find a truth. I fell asleep; it was a thin sleep, like a veil or the paper of a Japanese door, surviving under the condition of no penetration or contact. My dreams danced too close to the frontier of consciousness and unconsciousness and I thought, somewhere in the back of my mind, that if I were able to dream any closer to the boundary of awakening, I would develop sleep apnea; that is, dreaming while supposedly awake, conscious. I learned this in med-school during my neuro trials.

I dreamt. I usually didn't but this time I did. I stood before a white picked fence; the sky around it was blue and the grass was excessively vivid with green. Beyond the fence was a ruin and I somehow knew its history and where it came from. It was once a fort that lent its height to its inhabitants to extend their sight upon the land in search of bandits, invaders. I wasn't in Seattle, but it looked like Washington. It didn't matter. The ruin was old now, and crumbled into a rocky hole in its own body and exterior. The excess bricks were cluttered around its base, and beyond this, surrounding the roots of the ruin, was a graveyard.

The graves were unmarked but I knew who was beneath them; it was the old inhabitants of the ruins. They were slain by an outside force and perished ten feet from their home. I knew what happened here, even as a spectator from behind the white picked fence. The inhabitants saw the distant raiders but they deemed them too far away, too incapable to be a threat. But there was more; they banked on the wishful fact, the deceptive hope, that the raiders would not attack them, that they would remain benign and leave them in peace. In the night, they were attacked. Due to a false sense of security, an investment in the doubt imbued in the future, they did not act, and as a result, they were slain. They did not stand up to the invaders when they had a chance, and they suffered. I suffered.

I was now in a coffin, beneath one of the graves. It was dark here and my shoulders touched either side of the box. I struggled then and tried to kick my feet and the sound they made against the bleak wood of the chamber did not suggest that I was surrounded in a hollow environment. I kicked and screamed to get out and my hand cracked through the wood. Soil came gushing in through the hole then and I began to suffocate, to drown in a substance that wasn't water - in a mineral that would claim me through a means I had not associated with it before.

I was awake now, wholly this time, and I opened my eyes to guarantee it. Edward hadn't moved and the wetness of my skin hadn't alarmed him, thankfully. He was a heavy sleeper. He was lucky.

What were my options? I could go back to sleep, or I could tip-toe out and get a glass of water. Then I would return to bed and I would sleep and I would dream and I would wake up again and repeat this process. In fact, that is exactly what I did. My dream never continued, but rather, it recycled itself perfectly; the fence didn't change color and the grass was still excessively green. I would spectate and then I would be beneath one of the graves - kicking, shouting and begging for an end.

The only difference, during each hour that passed within this dream, was that the feeling of absolute despair ignited more intensely. What we inhabitants of the ruin had been protecting with all our might _was_, in fact, the ruin itself. But our battle was too late and we lost and we perished. We waited too long to stand up to them, to show them that they couldn't walk all over us: That they didn't control us and that we, a group consisting of individuals, had the capacity to say no. That even though we were outnumbered, we held on to the belief that we were confident in our own abilities to preserver, to continue on, to live the lives we chose. We would not be bullied. But we acted too late.

I would not act too late. I would not be like them. I would meet Aro and I would do what they didn't: I would say no. And I would take the blow for Edward, not because I was a martyr and certainly not because I was a hero, but because _he_ was like the ruin, before it was a ruin, and I needed to protect him from any, or every, external threat. I wouldn't see him endure any more pain, even if he was willing to. And then I would ask myself why? Why was I doing this? And the answer was clear to me. It was so _clear_ to me: Because I loved him too.

* * *

After slipping out of Edward's grasp at some stage during the night and throwing on one of the long black coats he used to wear to hide from unwanted eyes, I stepped outside the entrance of my apartment block so that I was alone and surrounded by no persons, but rather the rapidly descending crunch of rainfall all around me and in my panoramic view. The wind betrayed me and turned its direction to blow its icy droplets into my face and my hair began to hang damply over my head so that my face hosted racing droplets from my forehead to my chin.

I called Aro; it was a number I'd taken from Edward's phone. Each button I dialed pressed a coin of guilt through me but I stopped and told, or maybe lied, to myself and said that this was the right thing to do. Of course declining Aro's insane "offer" wasn't up for debate but whether or not to tell Edward? I knew him, he would do something stupid to Aro for putting me in this position; he was fiercely protective - and equally as loyal.

"I've got an answer," I said into the phone after someone answered the other line and while the rain pelleted beyond my voice. "It didn't take much thinking."

"Think very carefully before you make a final decision," said the familiar melodically-piercing and chirpy voice. "I don't suffer mind changing."

"Suffice to say there'll be no mind changing," I grumbled, licking the raindrops from my lips.

"That's either the best or worst news I've ever heard today."

"Consider it the best," I said. "I should've had the cop-on to tell you no right there and then in the hospital. But you caught me off guard, threw all of this at me at once and I couldn't think straight. But now I'm thinking straight and I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you. No."

"No?" he snarled.

"Goes without saying."

I never liked pauses. In fact, I was usually so repelled by them that I would continue to talk if I expected the arrival of one; but this time, this was different: I had never been so indifferent about a pause in my entire life. I didn't care what it denoted or whether it was a means to force me to wallow in my uncertainty about my decision. There was never an option here beyond no and so I had no reason to feel intimidated by this pause. Or by this decision. Or by this man, but I was still dealing with that last bit. I wouldn't let him terrorize me; but he terrorized me, and the first part was what I told myself, and the second was what I refused to tell myself.

"Let's be very sure, Jasper dear, you're _declining_ my offer?"

"No," I said with a grin only I knew about. "I'm _proudly_ declining your offer."

"May I ask why you would do something so.. foolish?"

"Does it matter?" I groused. "_Why_ doesn't concern you. My answer is my answer and I don't plan on letting you terrorize me over it. You wanna fight? Come find me. You wanna kill me? Just try. I'm not scared of you. I used to be, but I'm not anymore. I'm thinking straight." _I won't let him terrorize me. I won't let him terrorize me. I won't let him terrorize me._

The breathing on the other line was loud and hollow. "When we first started investigating you, my men told me that Edward was seeing a meek, wimpy young man who used his profession to assure himself of the contrary," said Aro plainly, his words sharp. "None of my operatives said that you posed any threat, that you were a faze Edward was going through and that he would come out of it. But it doesn't seem he's come out of it. A pity, really. You were the worst thing to ever happen to him."

"And why's _that_?" I growled, my fingertips turning pink upon the surface of my phone.

"Because you lead him to think that you are in love with each other. That is why he knows not of our exchange, isn't it? Because he loves you and you love him back? You're trying to protect him, aren't you? So foolish. Concepts can only protect your conviction and your confidence for so long, before reality comes and clears them right out. And listen to my voice, Jasper, I plan on making you see reality very soon."

"Is that a threat?" I asked.

"It's a reality. Do you see it now? Or does _love_ still cloud it?"

"I can see just fine. I see everything - what you are, and what you're trying to do."

"You see _lust_," growled Aro, for the first time angered by the chain of events. "There is no love here but one man protecting another over a misguided belief. You are foolish, Jasper. So foolish and you will be punished for concluding on such an idiotic note. You think you are in love? You think Edward is in love? Edward is not _capable_ of love. He is capable of lust, aha! Yes, he's very capable of that. But love? No. Do yourself a favor and end it now and you and I can walk away unscathed. Go through with the plan."

"You don't _know_ Edward," I bellowed, letting sparks of spit fly from my mouth. "And he's capable of everything. You think I'd do anything to hurt him? After what we built together you think I'd go up there and _kill_ him? You're fucking sick! And stop trying to sugarcoat what you're saying: It's not "ending it now," it's outright murder you want. Shove it up your ass Aro, if it can even get past the cobwebs."

There was a snigger on the line and I growled in response, my fingers just short of crushing my phone. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," he drawled out, carrying bitter mirth through a light sigh.

"I insist."

"No, it's merely nothing. I just find it amusing when someone cannot see when he's digging himself a deeper hole."

My wrists brittle and trembling, I shook my head from side to side and glanced across the glossy, rain-stricken streets before me, and they were ornamented with the sobbing eyes of red-traffic lights. "Why are you doing this?" I asked, the ghost of a whimper skimming through my words. The wheels of cars crushed through puddles and imbued the silence with a cacophonous melody of rubber, oil and gravel.

"I told you. Other than the money owed, Edward made a fool of me and I cannot allow him to -"

"I know that," I blurted, raking my free hand through my hair. "But why are _you_ doing this?"

I clenched my jaw in anticipation for a response but it was in vain. I was not granted one.

"Goodbye Jasper, you will hear from me soon."

"Wait, don't go! Tell me why you're doing this to us. You're a person, surely you can see-"

As I had interrupted him, the cutting of the line had interjected me. I stood hollowly at the side of the street, beneath the eaves of my apartment block, my home, and felt more lost than I ever had in my entire life. Over the past months, I learned not to fear what Aro could do to me, or to Edward, but rather to just accept that I would deal with whatever happened when or if it happened. But now, despite everything these experiences had schooled into me, I was just as unsure, just as robbed of my innocence as I was that night Aro came marching into my abode. And suddenly, I found myself fearing things that were beyond my control.

* * *

Tiptoeing was never my forté. I mean, I was a surgeon; sure, I was precise and exact and was expected to never miscalculate a single formula, but one thing I was allowed to be was loud. Whether it meant shouting "get a new scalpel!" to a nurse, or "define explosive diarrhea in less than ten words" to an unfortunate intern, I was never restricted in a way that required my silence. I was allowed to be as clamorous as I pleased, but coincidentally, this fact didn't serve me too well when it came to sneaking back into the house.

"Where were you?" Edward asked, his chest bare and his hand ruffling through his disheveled hair. "You're soaked."

"I popped out for a walk," I said, peeling the trench-coat from my shoulders.

"At 4am? In the rain? He tilted his head owlishly. "What were you thinking?"

Incapability number 5,556: Coming up with excuses. "Just wanted to get some air. What're you doing up?"

"I heard really loud footsteps, and you weren't beside me.. I was worried." Edward's lip dented into his cheek and my eyes fell to admire his chest, once again. It was a perversion at this stage. Somehow I pulled a smile and neared him.

"Sorry, babe. Didn't mean to scare you," I cooed, slicking my arms around his svelte waist and nuzzling into his famous niche.

"You're still wet," he said, partially amused and equally concerned. "I'll get the shower running for you, idiot." His genuine eyes probed me momentarily before blinking evanescently and disappearing towards the bathroom. Alone again, my pretense crumbled and the smile slipped right off of my face. Whoever claimed that lying was easy was a complete and utter liar. That was, if not saying anything still qualified as lying. I guess it did? I was a liar.

When Edward beckoned me into the bathroom, I ambled in and unbuttoned my shirt as I walked. The shower was a steam-box and he pulled open the door to grant me access. "Go on, heat yourself up," he invited, signaling me inside, but not leaving the room. I yanked my shirt off from around my shoulders and delved into the power that sustained my Jasper. My me.

"Thanks for this," I said forcedly, my eyes barely able to meet his and my inner voice convincing me that my act was exposed. But Edward just smiled and unbuttoned my jeans and allowed them to gently fall from my waist and to the floor. I watched him, skeptically at first, and then lovingly, as he unfastened my watch from my wrist and gingerly placed it onto the shoulder of the sink. "You don't want to get that wet," he said, smiling, emboldening me to copy.

As I said, I was about as talented at sustaining pauses as I was keeping silent while tiptoeing. Edward stopped nurturing to me and slid his hands slowly to my wrists. Wordless and speechless, he held them for a time long enough to remind me of what I _hadn't_ said. Then I felt relieved because for a moment there, it was as if he knew; like he shared my burdens, and verbalizing them was redundant. He ascended his eyes to mine and gazed into me as if he was fully apprised, as if keeping this secret was a pointless torture.

And my God, it took everything not to crumble into him right there and then.

With numbed fingertips from clenching to the phone too viciously, I reached for his waist and slid my arms around it, again, never immune to how his touch healed me. I fastened my emotions in place and pressed a false, yet sufficiently assuring, smile across my face and kissed Edward's cheek.

"I love you, Jasper," he said, again, eroding me that little bit more. He waited for a second to see if I'd say it back, but I could barely face him, never-mind imprint him forever to me by falsely proclaiming what he wanted to hear. I winced when disappointment flashed across his face but I had to harden myself. When I dealt with the Aro situation and when it was all over, _then_ I would say it to him. When my mind was free, when I was free, when _we_ were free.

I clenched my jaw to endure the pain in my diaphragm and when Edward slowly ambled out, I cracked and flopped like a poster falling from a wall. With my arms swirled around the rim of the sink, I tried not to hyperventilate; the pieces of water that gushed from the sprinkle-head reminded me of the rain that was everywhere when I spoke with Aro. I cursed a brave tear that chanced its way down my cheek and I swiped it away indignantly. I wouldn't let Aro terrorize me. I was giving him what he wanted.

I stepped into the shower and the hot water shot reality through me. It slashed away my daze and my feet suddenly felt substantial upon the floor beneath me. I was here, this was real and I was availing of a grace-period. What would happen tomorrow? Nothing? What about the day after? Nothing, again? What if nothing happened for years and then suddenly this mess reemerged? I questioned why I was longing for Aro to just react already and get it over with. I concluded that it wasn't a fear of what he would do to me, but _when_ he would do it. Maybe not knowing was my torture? Maybe living in fear was the punishment he decided to curse me with? I swallowed some water.

I creaked the water off and threw a robe over myself before exiting to the TV room. I heard whispery chuckles from the sofa and saw Edward flicking through an old photo album of mine. It was one of those fat, chunky ones that were decorated with flowery patches and different polka-dotted fabrics. I rouged. He was laughing at my baby pictures.

I slid down obdurately beside him with folded arms and shot a feigned glance of distaste towards him. "You were a pretty cute baby," he giggled, in his own manly way. "The chubby cheeks do it, I think." He titled the book towards me and pointed to a horrendous, monstrous image of my infant-self and I moaned, half glad and half mortified that he stumbled across it. "You had dimples then," he noted, grinning almost nostalgically.

"Where?" I asked. This was the first I'd heard of having dimples.

"Right here." He pointed to my cheeks and indeed traced out my infantile dents with his finger and I reddened definitively. I could feel his eyes on me despite mine being shuffled behind semi-closed eyelids of embarrassment, and I shivered under his scrutiny, smiling to pretend, uselessly, that I was undeterred.

"You still have them," he said, suddenly thumbing my cheeks and smiling fervently. "Just like in the picture." My insides crinkled once again with surges of guilt and affection. In the eye of the storm, I just half-smiled and supposedly popped a dimple in response. "See?" he cooed, nearing me. "Some things never change."

The book was shut and my skin creased when soft, rose petals brushed passed my cheeks and left a ghostly sensation all over my body. "I noticed you had dimples the night I met you," said Edward quietly, his head titled against the side of mine. "I couldn't get them outta my head, I just kept seeing them when I closed my eyes. I didn't get why I kept thinking about them. Guess that's what attracted me to you at first."

I said nothing and smiled, genuinely this time, and twiddled my thumbs. "You had this huge smile that night and your lips were all shiny from drinking from a bottle-neck." He stopped and chuckled silently to himself and took a breath. "I even asked the waiter who you were, but he didn't know. He gave me a look, asking me why I cared and I remember getting pissed off with him for thinking that I was interested in _that_ way. Guess the joke was on me, after-all."

I couldn't help but snort a little at that one and I turned to look at him, releasing my thumbs. "You could've just asked me."

Edward grinned. "Yeah, I could've. But then you started walking towards me and truth be told, I was shitting myself."

"You were?" I gasped, with a smile. "You were nervous?"

"Hell yeah, Jasper. Look at you. Wouldn't anyone be?"

Wholly touched, but still slightly reserved, I lowered my head onto Edward's shoulder. The breath that hummed from him was like raw power and safety and it took him to make me feel comfortable despite everything. My neck began to relax against the support and I shuffled my hands onto his lap. Edward wrapped an arm around me and before I could register the movement fully, we were cuddling on the sofa.

We went silent but I knew that vibe; he wasn't done with the reminiscing just yet. It was bound to come up again, just around the time that I would momentarily let go of everything. Around the time I would grant myself a tourist visa to a moment's peace. Around the time I would realize that this peace was temporary, and around the time I subsequently jumped back to square one and worried about everything all over again. I took a deep, deep breath. Peace; this was peaceful. I urged myself to savor the moment, to marvel in it, for however long I could ignore my Aro-colored fears.

"Remember that night I told you that I liked you?" Edward asked, mirth skipping along his words as his clutch tightened. I grinned and snuggled into him.

"Of course. You drove like a lunatic and still managed to get to first base with me."

Edward snorted and rubbed my arm affectionately, recalling the moment. "I was so pissed at myself that night. I spent the entire day telling my dad about you and he picked up right away that my feelings for you weren't exactly, ugh, y'know, platonic. Then he just came straight up with it and asked me if I liked you, in _that_ way."

"You didn't try and punch him?" I asked, half joking.

Edward sniggered. "It was a surprise for me too but I actually didn't. I think I just wanted someone to say it for me and when he did, it just made sense. Then we took the rest of the day organizing you to come over. My dad kept mouthing pointers at me the entire time, thank fuck you didn't notice."

Ouch. Well, I did notice Carlisle gesturing to Edward but I didn't realize then what that meant. I apprised Edward of this.

"Damn! I thought we were discreet," he complained, grinning.

"Well you were, sorta," I said.

Edward sighed. "My dad made me repeat all the steps to having dinner with you before you arrived. He said, 'remember, you pull his chair out for him, and you pour his wine for him,' and so on. He told me it would work without a doubt, but then you weren't giving me anything. Ha, that really confused me!" He chuckled and drew out some air. "Guess it worked out in the end right?"

Meanwhile, I was stifling a whine; I wanted to relive those days, be that naive again, have my biggest concern be whether or not Edward fancied me. Things were so much simpler in those days, and I longed for them. Not to say that I wasn't in awe of the fact that Edward was the man holding me and caressing me right now, but I felt a strange attachment to those memories also, to those days before we were together and having pizza with one another was a big deal. I pressed my lips together and repositioned myself so that my head was on Edward's lap and I was gazing up at him.

"You know your Dad and I were speaking before the dinner? He told me about how you felt. Well, I shouldn't say it like that: He tipped me off, but I still didn't get it. He thanked me for everything 'I did for you' and told me you were fond of me, or, along those lines. I was so happy to have your approval that I tuned everything else out. I didn't quite catch that he was giving me a well needed hint." My eyes squinted as I laughed and from the muffled slits they formed, I could see Edward watching me.

"He said that?" he gasped, now taking the role of the mortified one.

"It was sweet of him," I responded, rubbing Edward's chest placatingly. "I guess he just wanted us to work."

"Guess so."

A short eternity later, after we both became lost in our thoughts, Edward touched my face gently. "Maybe I should thank him some day. If he helped bringing me to you then I owe him one, hey?"

My diaphragm saved me by clenching back an emotive expression. "Maybe! But I better thank him too then. I know you hate all the cushiony words and stuff but you are the best thing to ever happen to me, Edward."

He leaned down and kissed me passionately and a tear finally escaped the corner of my eye. "Stealing my line?" he asked with a glint in his eye before his expression turned dour. "I dunno how you can say that. I've caused so much shit for you."

I shook my head. "Shit, pains in the ass, bothers? Call it whatever you want. But I'd go through it all over again, Edward. Even with everything that's happened, I'm not a walking robot anymore, or, err, surgeon. I feel like I've got someone to enjoy life with, to share things with, and no amount of 'shit' could take away from that."

"God -" he gasped, trying to form a response. "I don't - fuck, I love you. I just -"

I leaned forward and summoned his lips to mine and claimed them forcefully. There was something so meaningful when people who seldom spoke their minds took the liberty to do the contrary, even if it was just three words.. It gave these words, their message, so much more power and I was drunk from their poignancy. Not a word from Edward was a platitude because I knew that he meant, through and through, every noun and vowel that passed through his lips. Words loved him, and I loved his words and as I forced my tongue into his mouth with deep zeal, I became more infatuated at knowing that he was now _thinking_ those same words.

I curled upwards and straddled his lap, kissing his neck and nipping it as I dropped lower, biting a nipple daringly. Edward winced with pleasure and from the thin linen of his pajama pants, raised a nascent erection. The sight of his stomach hair disappearing into the band of his pants had a similar effect on me and when I moved on to lick his other nipple, he poured his hand into my jeans and began stroking me from beneath the denim.

I groaned aloud and felt indebted immediately. I pulled his stretchy waistband over his cock and fastened it at his balls before taking him into my mouth and sucking hard, harder, my hardest. His warm member throbbed against my pallet and I clamped down to send frissons of pleasure through his body. A hand rested on my head and his hips began to buckle towards my mouth, justifying the tears that spread from my eyes.

With hard nipples, a stiff boner, and flexed abs, Edward humped my face until a new taste swirled into my mouth alongside a massive groan from my boyfriend. I didn't plan on wasting a drop and I gulped all at once and took a deep, lungful of air. Edward was paralyzed for a moment as his senses readapted from their catapult from one extreme to the other. I stroked him until he was limb and his body no longer needed to stretch flat against the arch of the sofa in elevated pleasure. Edward's body was an honor to worship; his muscles were like valleys upon a field of snow and his lips were an intense, apple-bitten rouge. Even his pubes were royal and manly as they greeted my fist at every secondly interval.

My hands slid up his chest as they did the first night we kissed and they remained there as I came to appreciate the man whose body was beneath my palms. It never quite sunk in with me when Edward told me that I was "beautiful." It was something I didn't expect, something that I would have no sooner expected Pterodactyl or Bierce Fitch to say to me. I never thought of myself as that before, but as his pecs expanded into my hands with every breath he took, I realized that it took one to know one.

"I'm dizzy," said Edward, smiling, his expression drunk and awry. He pushed me back a little with a flat hand upon my chest and then positioned me on my back. "Your turn?"

"My turn?" I gulped and thought about what he meant by that but when he put his hand back into my jeans and began stroking me, I realized that my sexually oblivious mind never failed to surface at the most unfortunate of times. Even though blissful pleasure seeped into my muscles, tendons and nerves and my attitude towards my plethora of worries began to become nothing more than a titter, I couldn't fully, wholly, get lost in the moment. It wasn't anything Edward was doing - it wasn't that at all; he was perfect and what he was doing even transcended perfect. But it was me; something within me that wouldn't let me willfully drown in the waves of delight that pulsated through my body.

His hand moved up and down, up and down and I moaned and groaned but not genuinely; more so because I knew that that was expected of me, of someone in this situation. It was supposed to feel good. Why couldn't I feel good? My eyes glanced over at a picture on the coffee table. It was a group shot of me, Edward, Emmett, Sofia, Ptero and Bierce Fitch, all smashed together, wings, paws and arms alike, and smiling wholeheartedly at the fact we knew the picture was going to end up crooked, lopsided or unfocused. But we were okay with that; we wouldn't have expected the photo to come out perfectly and that was the very reason that it _was_ perfect. We were a group then, together and happy, and the biggest problem in the minds of we in that picture was whether Edward and Emmett would mind occupying the same space for whatever period of time. Our issues seemed so trivial in retrospect, compared to now.

Now, well, now I added Aro's face to the equation, his murine, pinched little face corrupting us all. If I thought enough about it, I could've blamed him for everything that changed us from the people we were in that photo: Had he not been the ever-looming threat that he was in both my and Edward's life, then maybe I would've been more persistent in Sofia staying with us until she got back on her feet and found another job. And if Aro hadn't caused so much stress and pain for Edward, perhaps he wouldn't have been so guarded when he met Emmett and maybe their relationship would've turned out differently. And as for Edward and I, well had Aro not been part of our lives, a totally foreign deck of cards would be on the playing field about now. Aro _was_ who he put himself out there as: A crook, a liar, a cheater. And he was chipping away, slowly, at my life, our lives, before my - our - very eyes.

Between Edward and I now were secrets; corrosive and pear-shaped secrets that no normal person could possibly understand over a five minute coffee break. 'Should I?' 'Shouldn't I?' 'Should I?' 'Shouldn't I?' Whether or not to tell Edward was the doubt that consistently carbonated my emotional composure and disallowed me from settling in moments of repose for too long. I loved Edward. That much was simple. And if you ever loved someone then you knew how hard it was to keep something from them. Even if keeping it from them was for their own benefit. Humph, '_for their own benefit_,' that's what I was telling myself. But it was true. It _was_ true, yes? Yes.

"Ugh, Jasper?" said Edward suddenly, glancing from his hands to me in a moment of confusion. "You're soft."

Shocked, I peered down south and indeed he was right. I was limb, placid and visually turned off by Edward's efforts. My mouth fell agape and I groaned with frustration and sympathy. But I knew that glint in Edward's eye, I could spot it a mile away. He was taking it personally. "Was I doing it wrong?" he asked, his features heavy and weighted as I immediately sat upright and rubbed his shoulder.

"It's not you," I said softly, sighing. "It's just... I've got a lot on my mind. You were great. You're always great." I could tell that my words were meaningless and I groaned at myself for allowing my thoughts to get the better of me. "Why don't we try again?" I forced a smile and lay back, my hands cushioned behind my head.

Edward watched me, wondering whether or not I was serious. "Ugh, Jasp, talk to me here. What's on your mind?" he asked, his hands chaste and firm either side of him. I rubbed my eyes and took a deep breath, anticipating the guilt I was bound to feel when I didn't come clean to him. Leaning forward, I relaxed my shoulders and slouched a little bit.

"It's work," I explained, forcing my real concerns into a false cause. "It's just really getting to me. With all the cuts back when Sofia left, I've had to cover more ground and stuff. I probably shouldn't bring work stress back home, but hey, I'm a dedicated surgeon, right?"

"Clearly," mumbled Edward, unconvinced and skeptical at my frantic explanation. "But your buzzer hasn't once gone off or anything so they don't need you right now. What're you worrying about?" He stopped and grimaced. "Are you just making shit up to make me feel better? If I was doing a bad job, Jasp, just tell me!"

"You were doing fine," I sighed, wiping my face, frustrated. Edward wasn't having it and he huffed indignantly and retreated to the other side of the sofa. I promptly fetched my underwear from the floor and drew them over my hips once again, sending evil eyes at my cock for not obeying Edward's commands.

"Really Edward, it's just work. Just because they haven't paged me doesn't mean anything." I moved nearer and smiled, hoping that my knowledge of Edward's infatuation with my newly discovered dimples would serve me in some manipulative way. "I've got an elderly patient who's difficult with the interns and Julian's been on my mind a lot lately.. but none of those mean that I'd get paged.. they're just sorta, worries in my head." The last part was true, somewhat, and if you replaced those names with 'Edward' and 'Aro,' it would have been more or less accurate. Not to say that Julian wasn't in my thoughts, but my mind tended to prioritize and he had it better than all of us. He was at least safe, warm and currently asleep.

"If they're overworking you, there are little things called unions. Why don't you hit yours up?" Edward suggested, still partially agitated and closed off in the form of folded arms. I chuckled and lovingly drew my fingers across the brown hairs on his forearm.

"That would be another thing to deal with, wouldn't it?" I said with a slight smile. But behind it was a frantic disposition that anticipated, with crossed fingers, Edward's approval and hoped, whilst shivering on the edge, that he would let it go lest I slipped up, which we all knew I had a tendency to do. My inner Bierce Fitch was due to emerge eventually, knowing my luck.

"Anything I can do?" he asked, wide eyes turning like bulbs of a lighthouse to gaze at me. He didn't blink and that made it all the harder to maintain contact with him as he scrutinized me with concern. Disconcerted, I chanced a smile and nodded with affirmation. It seemed he was letting it go. I was getting my wish; my wish conducive to short-term despair and long-term obscurity - my wish to keep him safe, even if it meant keeping him in the dark.

"You've done more than you know," I said, lying back to my former position with my head upon his lap. I took his arm and clutched it into my chest, much to the chagrin of his joints, but Edward stoically granted me this comfort and finally smiled with unparalleled fervor.

"Relaxed?" he asked, eyebrows high and eyes deep and content.

"Yeah," I lied, with a smile, snuggling into his forearm and falling asleep.


	19. What's Clear and Unclear, Part I

A double chapter. Part 2 up later. Please enjoy and don't be afraid leave your thoughts. Thank you as always!

* * *

_"This place where I worked was the sole societal safe-haven for those at the bottom of the food-chain - the plankton of the pyramid. And this was thanks to we humans, who were the only earthly beings that actually stopped in the tracks of evolution to consider those of ourselves floundering behind us. We were remarkable, weren't we?"_

Yep. I said that. It was me. I took the blame. I was wrong. These words passed through my mind as I watched Julian navigate through the halls, swerving between rushing, heel-clomping surgeons and nimble, chart-clutching nurses. I was astonished at how hospitals were proof of what differentiated humans from animals: We were the sole earthly beings to halt in our personal pursuits to aid our own kind who were sick, weak, dying or all of the above. I noted healthy, passion-driven doctors sharing the same space as dying, feeble patients simply because they were genetically reprogrammed, over centuries of anthropological progression, to help them. There was a saying that reputed that going into medicine was a vocation of sorts because it was often a grueling and thankless job. And yet, despite this bitter pill, it was the basis of which many of us defined ourselves. Sending a chronically ill patient back into the world after months or years of treatment was, quite possibly, the most rewarding feeling a person could experience - it alone made the job worth doing - and we took pride in knowing that we were doing some good in the world, however great or minute the results of our work went on to be. So in a sense, being a surgeon wasn't a career, but rather, a means of self expression. Being a surgeon wasn't a paid job; it was a _trait_ that happened to coincide with an established profession. At the beginning, before I knew Edward, I wasn't sure if I was cut out to be a surgeon; even though dozens of doctors were laid off all around me, it didn't convince me that the hospital recognized my merits. It wasn't until I saw Julian swerving through the halls did I realize that being a doctor was inextricably linked to what made me Jasper Whitlock.

But there was a hole in this theory; this theory driven by a moment of spontaneous optimism at the sight of Julian flipping around corners and speeding on ahead of me, his arms out either side of him like an airplane. The problem was that I used a blanket statement: _"We humans,"_ and_ "we were remarkable, weren't we?" _This "we" that I naively used that day was the sole and yet detrimental falsity in my words. It was the pronoun that made my statement null and void.

Doctors, nurses, surgeons and anesthesiologists _did_ stop to help others and they _did_ defy our innate animal programming, but what I didn't consider then, and what I refused to allow my mind to delve into the possibility of, was that this special programming seen on the medical field was very much _restricted_ to the medical field. "We humans" were just as barbaric, at times, when we wanted to be. And too many days passed when a murder, rape, or theft of someone weak and innocent broadcasted through the dusty speakers of my radio. Where there was a thesis, the anti-thesis was also true: There were doctors, yes, but there were also murderers, cheats, liars - Aros.

Aro.

It was Aro who taught me that this theory was wrong, that "we humans" were flawed and that "we humans" weren't all programed to support our weaker comrades and that many of us instead kicked them while they were down. Often, we would kick and kick, and shove and shove, until there was a definitive "us and you," where the former was made up of the fit and the latter was made up of the weak, those happening upon the voids of death.

They say (although I was never sure who "they" actually were) that it was healthy to learn one thing a day. This could be anything from a fun-fact, to a complex formula. And I, well, I certainly learned something today. I learned that not all people possessed the good that I assumed they did. I learned that some people willfully kicked those furthest from the finish line. And above all else, I learned that if I witnessed this first hand, if I was exposed to an injustice upon an innocent, revenge would drive me for a short, yet life-changing, period.

* * *

_- 15 hours earlier -_

I woke up with Edward's arm nestled into my chest. His poor joints must've been stiff like glued lollipop sticks but I smiled selfishly regardless; it granted me a temporary peace that I couldn't quite put to words. That's what Edward was like. His touch was a celestial force of restoration and it numbed my troubles and concerns like an early fog upon the tips of a city. I yawned and stretched, allowing Edward to draw his bloodless arm back to a position that circulation could actually restore. My shuffling woke him up and he smiled scruffily at me. He was always especially sexy in the mornings; maybe it had to do with his disheveled hair, deep camp-fire crackled voice and bleary emerald eyes.

"Morning," I said with a smile, my forearms shaking as I stretched them out wide.

"Morning to you too," he responded, his voice like gravel. "Sleep well?"

My eyes were wide and I grinned. "The best I've ever slept."

"You say that every morning," he reprimanded with a chuckle. "You sleep like a baby."

I laughed and patted his shoulder. "I guess you're the common denominator, then!"

"Hah, glad to know I have that effect on you."

"One of many effects," I said under my breath, but not quietly enough to elude Edward's ears. He lifted up my head and lowered his hand beneath to cushion me and I allowed my weight to relax upon it. I was such a lucky guy; I could only imagine the hundreds of people who saw Edward and wished that they were waking up to him as I was. And out of every person in the world, of all the people from London to Los Angeles, or Berlin to Tokyo, Edward found and chose me. The odds must've been somewhere around 199,999,000/1 that we would end up end up in the same part of the earth and even more that we would end up together. Things really were meant to be.

"So what're your plans today?" Edward asked, fingering his watch before his eyes to check the time. I shrugged and glanced over at my pager.

"No idea," I pressed out. "I better go to the hospital to check up on Julian and the others. But I shouldn't be too long. Maybe an hour or two, unless there's an emergency or something."

Edward blinked at me for a moment as if in anticipation for something else and his expression evoked a similar one from me. "Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked, my eyes wide as he watched me carefully. He began to shake his head from side to side with disbelief and I became momentarily lost.

"There's nothing special about today?" he asked, blinking at me with shock. I knitted my brows incredulously and thought hard to myself. But when the only events of importance were seeing Julian and remaining vigilant for Aro and his men, my mind fell blank.

"Ugh? Special? It's not raining anymore, I guess that makes it special today," I said softly, but Edward sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with frustration.

"Think _real_ hard, Jasper. Today doesn't strike you as different from yesterday?"

"Well, ugh, today is the 22nd and yesterday was the 21st - that makes it different, I guess." I scratched my head with confusion. I was starting to feel stupid and I flicked through my brain to remember what was possibly so important about today. But again, my efforts were futile. "Okay, I give up. What's so important?"

"Oh man," Edward drew out, a hand falling down his face. "It's your _birthday_ today, Jasper!" He groaned and then allowed his expression to melt into a smile with more or less feigned agitation. "How can you seriously forget this?"

"How can you seriously remember?" I shot back. "But really, it can't be my birthday. Didn't I already celebrate it like a few weeks ago?"

"Ugh, I doubt it," said Edward despondently. "You remember this day, right? We barely knew each other and my dad was in St. Jay's with the operation."

I mentally time-traveled back to my last birthday and the memory stung me like lemon in the pupil. It was also the night I got with Emmett and caused World War 3. "Ah yes," I said, clearing my throat. "I remember this time last year. It's been twelve months already?"

"You bet. Time flew, right?"

"Right."

"So what do you wanna do for it?" Edward asked, cradling me gently. I thought about it again and honestly speaking here, I didn't really want to do anything. As you could see, I didn't put much weight on birthdays; who wanted to celebrate getting _older_? I never really understood that but each to his own, I supposed.

"I dunno. I didn't really think about it," I apprised, my mind already thinking about work, schedules and Aro.

"We have to do something. Leave it with me. Can you come home sorta early today?"

I shrugged and thought about the list of things I had to do today. "I can't make any promises," I said and Edward became genuinely agitated. But he closed his eyes as if to gather patience from somewhere and he allowed this frustration to simmer down slowly, like steam from a heated cloth.

"I'll go again. _Come_ home sorta early today."

"So it's a demand?" I asked, a smile carving its way across my cheek. Edward nodded wryly and sent me a wink, indicating to me that his irritation had not gotten the better of him.

"It's a _nice_ demand," he corrected.

"Those don't exist."

"Jasper, I demand that you relax, have a bath and throw your pager under the wheel of a bus.. See? That's a nice demand."

I snorted ever so attractively and grinned like a dorky school boy. "You know me so well." I nodded, then, and conceded to his 'nice demand' while mentally verifying the location of everything on my checklist needed for work. Hopefully this time I wouldn't drop every item outside my doorstep and attract Emmett to the noise. He would think there was something wrong with me if that scenario played out all over again. "Fine. I'll try to come home early today. But no promises, okay?"

Edward shrugged and rolled his eyes. This really was the best I could do and he knew it. He knew that I now intended to come home early but he, of course, also knew that I was easily and magnetically turned back into the doors of the hospital at the slightest cerebral sense that something was wrong with a patient. Our plans were contingent upon a smooth operation at work today and for Edward, this was unfortunate. It was hard for him to plan things around my schedule and I could empathize with him to an extent, but it wasn't as if this was anything new. We were always planning dinners and various outings around the treatment of my patients. This was the nature of my job. It was a full commitment. But it was the reality. And apparently, I had to be more open to reality lately.

"Thanks, just do your best," said Edward with a smile and I brushed my lips passed his, in gratitude and fair-well. I gathered my things in my arms, barely able to keep them all within my grasp, and waddled out the door with my car-keys balancing on the tip of my pinky finger.

* * *

In the place where I worked for this length of time now, you could argue that life got a little banal. And yes, to an extent this was true. But it was short-term goals and changes that blurred this from my acknowledgement. For example, today the front of the reception desk in General Surgery was painted from a peachy red to a dark, oily blue and honestly speaking here, the change was colossal. Every time I walked passed it, I was emboldened to look, watch, as if the desk would grow legs, get up and leave. Then the entire atmosphere in the hall changed as the blue color brought a new feeling to the place. This was a change that surprisingly took up a lot of my thinking time and differentiated this day, somewhat, from yesterday, and made the routine of work somewhat more exotic - for a limited time only.

But the new reception desk color was overwritten by something else today. This day would no longer been known as "the day the hall got some blue," but would be remembered for something else. Something that required more of me, more than a quick glance of uncertainty at a foreign color. Today was a day I only dreamed about and it was a day, a moment, that flushed Aro from my mind like a pebble in a gushing river.

"Dr. Whitlock," said a nurse from behind, tipping my shoulder with her nail. "I've got Julian Hart's condition update recordings here. Would you like to take a look?" I looked at her like she was stupid. What a thoughtless question to ask me. _Me_. His doctor for all these years. I shot her a deathly glare to apprise her of her own stupidity and mumbled a dismissive term under my breath. Dick-head I was, but I regretted nothing.

When I opened the charts, however, my eyes globed widely and the spine of the book dropped from my hand. With a jittering jaw, clammy palms and wet pupils, I swung my arms around the nurse with a howl. A wide howl, a deep howl, a _huge_ howl. I lifted her off her feet despite the shriek I squeezed from her and my smile stretched with glee and I cackled like a kid who won his first football game.

"It's in remission!" I cheered, my decorum on ecstasy. "It's in _remission!_"

"What is?" asked the nurse, pressing my shoulders to balance herself in my arms. "Could you put me down at least?"

"It's in _remission_," I drew out, again, in disbelief that those words were passing my lips. But the nurse's eyes were stars of a different magnitude; she wasn't on my page at all. This was partially because she wasn't very clever at inferring the meaning from my words, and also because nurses weren't inclined to look at patients' charts. So with the latter as my basis, I didn't ask her, sarcastically, if there were _any other_ things that she knew of that _specifically_ went into remission.

By the time I stopped cheering, howling and spinning the woman around in ways that could've qualified pressing charges, a small group of medical personnel had gathered around us and were asking what the excitement was about.

"Remission!" I chortled, laughing with tears of joy that meandered down my face. "His cancer is in remission."

"Whose cancer?" asked New-Irene, placing a hand on my shoulder for the sake of the poor nurse in my arms, who was green in the face from being spun in circles. Motion sickness was so overrated.

"Julian's!" I enthused, my chest pumping forward. "He's been here longer than most of _us_ as well as all the patients, because his cancer was so advanced. But it's gone into remission! Look, look!" I flipped the chart open and flashed it to the Doubting Thomas. Indeed, she smiled and nodded.

"It certainly has," she said. "Looks like he's a little fighter."

"_Little_?" I dismissed. "He's a fucking warrior! I knew he'd come through this!" Um, well maybe Edward really was influencing me with his cursing, but hey, special circumstances, right?

"What're you waiting for?" asked New-Irene, as my grip loosened enough so that the nurse could scurry off to the little girls' room. "Go tell him the good news!"

I gasped. "Me? Me! Oh, right! Right. I have to tell him. I _get_ to tell him. He'll be so happy." I wiped my face with the back of my hands and fixed my hair. "Do I look calm?"

"You look fine," said New-Irene. "Now shoo! The next cheer I want to hear is _his_."

With a deep breath, I braced myself and tried not to burst out of my skin. _Years; _that's how long it'd been. 365 days over and over and over again - until today. I practically exploded into Julian's room and shocked his soul right out of his chest. His green notebook was shoved forcefully into his pillow and his expression was initially sour at the sudden outburst.

"You could've knocked," he reprimanded. "Is there a fire or something?"

"Better!" I blurted. "Your update!"

"My.. update?"

"On the cancer."

"Oh, right," he drew out. "Just say it quickly. Is it bad news?"

He was schooled to dread updates; they usually informed him that the cancer had spread to a new organ and that this required a new, painful, surgery. But this was different. I was about to make him love the word _update_ forever.

"Julian," I sighed with a smile, moving to his bed and sitting on the side. "It's not bad news. Not this time. Your cancer's gone into remission."

"Remiss- _what_?" he shrieked, the blood draining from his face. "Does that mean I'm dying?"

"What?" Shit! Medical lingo. Nice one Jasper. Way to go. Talk about ruining the moment. Take two:

"Your cancer's decreased to the point that you're healthy enough to be discharged soon. What I'm saying is that you're not sick anymore, Jul. You're going to be fine. Just like I _told_ you." I had to fight back tears; tears of joy and nostalgia at how far we'd come. This felt like a dream, but even too good at that. So better than a dream, of sorts, and I had to double take and pinch myself with my hands behind my back to make sure that this was reality.

"I-It's g-gone?" he stuttered, the blood making no cameo in his face whatsoever. "I-I'm _healthy_?"

"_Yes_," I pressed out, tears blurring at the bases of my eyes. I reached forward and took his hands in mine and dipped my head. Julian was like a rag-doll. He didn't know what was going on at all, and I think he needed to allow my words to process and sink in. I had to remember that this was a shock that resonated far past relief for Julian; in a sense, this was a turning point - a milestone - and often, those could be very scary. The unknown was scary. And for him, cancer wasn't this unknown, but rather, not having cancer was. It'd been so many years now that life beyond the walls of the General Surgery ward was alien to the pre-teen. Ice-cream was a taste for the memory and rain was nothing more than a sound that disrupted sleep at all hours of the morning. So yes, this was a relief for him in that he could now catch up with what he missed during his time bed-bound and that he was healthy and could go on to grow up and lead a life like any other kid his age. But this was also scary for him as his time apart from the world caused him to create his own world, in the bubble of St. Jay's Memorial Hospital. A transition from one world to the other was due for him, and I could only imagine what that was doing to his head.

"I'm scared, Jasper."

"I know," I sighed, wiping my cheeks before wrapping the boy into my arms. Despite my embrace, Julian was still flustered and he poked his head out into the niche between _my_ neck and shoulder and patted my back to release him.

"How could you know?" he asked, his eyes radiant, glowing and orbiting with fusions of emotions: Fear, hope, apprehension, enthusiasm, excitement, dread, elation, nostalgia - I could see them all like planets through a telescope and I felt lost. I didn't know what to say that would put him at ease until I decided to _stop_ thinking.

"I just know," I said, nodding from side to side but not breaking eye contact. "You don't need to explain. I get it. I get why this is scary, it's okay."

"But I should be happy," exclaimed my patient, a tear falling softly down the base of his nose. "This is what I've always wanted but now that I have it, I'm not sure if I want it at all." He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and sniffed silently, as if to hold it back in my presence.

A lump happened upon my throat and I looked up at the ceiling lights to gather strength. "It's so small in here and I know where everything is. My TV is there and my book is here. Nothing's too far away, but out there.." He glared at the curtain-shielded window and his focus narrowed. "Out there it's so _big_. People need cars just to get from one place to another a-and there's just so much space that I-.. I-I haven't left this hospital for years. This is my _home_."

"I know," I gushed. "But nobody ever stays here, Jul. People come and they go so that new patients can come in. Everyone spends their time here and everyone leaves. This is just your time now. It may have taken a little longer to get here but it's here. And take it from me," I grinned and sniffed my emotions to dormancy, "it's better out there than in here."

"Then why are _you_ still here?"

Thoughtfully, I paused for a moment and smiled, pensively drawing my thoughts over his question with precision. "Because I had you to take care of, didn't I?"

"I don't wanna leave!" squealed Julian, then, much to my surprise, before leaping forward and curling his arms around my neck with a sob. "This is my home, here with my best friend, with you. Can I stay just a little longer? I-I can't go. This is where I'm supposed to be."

"..until today," I added warmly. "Jul, you've got that girl to take to your prom. And you've got tests to ace and football games to lead. You've got so much to do, see and live and you can't do any of that here, as much as I want you to stay." I gulped but couldn't refrain from stopping my voice from cracking and wobbling. "It's gonna be so hard coming to work knowing I won't be seeing you, really I can't even think about it, but I'll just remind myself that you're out there kicking ass - excuse my French - and you know what? That'll make things a lot better."

"What about my stories? How can I write about doctors and hospitals when I'm at home with my parents?"

"It's been four _years_. You've got enough hospital in you to write a thousand books. You're practically a surgeon already. It's only a matter of time before you'll be replacing me!" Levity was harder done than said and the cacophonous helium induced tones to my voice didn't help when I tried to be the strong and collected one, but a faint smile etched across Julian's glum face and I too smiled in response, squeezing his shoulder mirthfully.

"When do I have to go?" he asked, pulling the comforter up to his lap.

"I'll call your parents and tell them the good news and then the nurses will do some checks on you. Some of the boring guys in administration will speak with your parents and then, well, I guess you're free to go." I never expected to have such distaste for the word 'free' before in my life. I was selfish since I wanted him to stay but of course he had to go. A hospital wasn't conducive to the growth of a child who had his whole life to live and that was the cruel reality that I had to make _clear_ to him. There it was again: Clear, just when things were up in the air.

"How long will that take?" he asked.

"You'll probably get the discharge forms sometime tomorrow." I pictured his parents happily filling out those forms with me standing in the background, forcing a cheery face because their son was leaving my daily routine. But I was selfish, there was no denying that, and I wanted him to stay despite common sense and law saying otherwise. This kid was my rock.

Then Julian broke me through and through when he asked me: "Will I ever see you again?"

Not sure where to place my eyes - the ceiling? the floor? Not possibly Julian's eyes - I took the boy close to me and placed my chin on his head. His sobs muffled into my neck. I realized that if I was to ever have a child, I would want him to be exactly like Julian, caring, loving and pure to the core. And when it shook me that the likelihood of my patient taking a break from the catching up he'd be doing to come and visit me here in the hospital was a low chance, my entire diaphragm curled into itself in pain. In med school, they told us that counting backwards from five was the best way to calm yourself during moments of pressure. The patient was bleeding out, what did you do? You took five seconds despite the severity because those few moments were expendable if it meant getting the job done thereafter. I found myself counting back from five while Julian cried into my chest and when I got to one, I blinked the last tear away.

"Of course you will," I said, sniffing to gather composure. "I'm always here, goofing around and doing a lot less work than I should." Julian chuckled through his cries and fell silent, not letting go of me. I knew I had to give him some space to think it all through so I gently rose to my feet and his grip detached. "And Edward'll want to see you again, I'm sure."

"Oh boy, Edward! I forgot. Tell him I said thank you for making me feel better that time! He told me he'd bring in embarrassing photos of you but I guess I won't be here for that. C-could you tell him to show me anyway? I'll come visit the hospital and we can meet up and-"

"Don't worry," I breathed, softly calming his frantic explanation. "Edward will jump on any chance to make me go bright red. Just concentrate on yourself and everything else will fall through." I stepped back from the bed and updated Julian's chart at the front of his mattress. The pocket that held 4 years worth of files was now fronted with "_cleared_" and the boy's time in the hospital was coming to a demulcent end. It was bitter-sweet, of course, but when I thought about how he'd finally get to do all the 'kid-things' he missed out on, the sweetness began to overtrump the bitterness.

"I better go call your parents and tell them the good news. Then I'll check up on some other patients and head home for my break. I'll maybe come back with Edward, what d'ya think?"

His face lit up and he wiped his tears away with a clearing of his throat. "I'd like that, thanks Jasper."

"No problem, buddy. You'll be okay until your parents get here?"

"Yeah. I've got writing to do. I'm gonna finish this last part and then get ready for the nurses to do checks and stuff."

"You've got my number," I said, patting the pocket that held my phone. "You need anything, you call me."

With a deep breath, I turned around and exited his room and ambled pensively down the hall. New-Irene gave me a smile and I nodded back, unable to meet her enthusiasm even half way as the thought of a new patient in Julian's room crossed my mind. When I got to the entrance of my next patient's room, I stopped for a moment and realized that St. Jay's Memorial Hospital would never quite be the same again.

* * *

I couldn't wait to tell Edward the news. Watching him react so positively to Julian's health would make me feel better about the boy's departure. He probably wouldn't believe me at first but that remained to be seen. I was practically exploding out of my nerves while working the rounds after leaving Julian because I just wanted to share the revelation with someone, that was of course, Edward. I skipped through the halls of my apartment block and almost leaped face first into Emmett. I didn't even berate him for getting in my way, I just apologized and continued to skip, whistling some chirpy tune in the highest octave I possibly could.

"Someone's in a good mood! You got laid or something?" projected Emmett, forgetting that there were children on our floor who were now asking their parents how babies were made. I looked back and sniggered at Emmett's remark and gave him a wink, my feet shuffling forward without my consent.

"Don't talk about what you can't relate to, Em, it's unflattering." I shot him a wry grin and he chortled and I could see that "touché" was crossing his mind. I stopped at my door, whipped out my keys and leapt inside. Edward was getting ready to go to work in the firm and he was kitted out in a shirt and tie, looking might snazzy If I could say so myself.

"I know I said come home early, but it's only 12pm," he said, an eyebrow elevated. I swooned a little, admittedly, and advanced on him to pull his tie towards me. I was so drunk with relief and joy for Julian's sake that I wrapped my arms around his pale neck and kissed his Adam's apple and then his jawline. Edward grunted and took my arms and held me away, watching me suspiciously as I fought and writhed to near him.

"You came home to make out with me? I'm just off to work!" he said with an awry smile, his brows furrowed.

"I came home to see you and yeah, maybe make out with you. You'll never guess what happened today!"

"It sunk in that it's your birthday?"

"No!" I dismissed with a smile, waving my hand. "It's about Julian!" Edward nodded for me to continue and I could feel my face inflate gleefully.

"His cancer's gone," I blurted ecstatically. "Well, it's in remission but that's good enough for him to be discharged! He pulled through, he can go back to school and everything this year!"

I was suddenly looking down upon my kitchen from high above and when my eyes shot around the room, I was up in Edward's arms, being swung around in circles similarly to how I span the nurse. I clutched to his shoulders and chortled loudly, cheering and howling. When I was plopped onto my feet, my mouth was stolen by Edward's. How I wished my mouth could marry a pleasure like that! When his lips drooped from mine, he smiled with his sharp teeth and pulled me close. "You saved his life," he said. "You gave him a shot."

My chest heavy, I breathed out and my smile shortened. "No," I corrected. "He saved mine. I wasn't sure if being a surgeon was for me, but it is. Damn, Edward, I'm so happy for him, but I don't want him to leave. Work's gonna be so weird without him."

"But look at the bright side.. Julian's probably going to study medicine after the impact you made on him, so maybe he'll be your colleague before you know it."

I smiled. "I said the exact same thing. Don't get me wrong, I couldn't be happier for him. I'm just a bit selfish, I guess."

"Oh Christ," Edward cursed. "You practically devoted the last four years of your life to Julian and his health and now that he's better you think you're selfish? Shut up, Jasper. And stop over-thinking. Actually, just stop thinking."

And I said those exact words too. Sometimes the ways we influenced each other surfaced so blatantly. I nodded and fell into Edward's chest again, my cheek melting on his shoulder. He pressed me into him with his arms upon shoulder blades and I deflated like a draining balloon. Lucky for me, I could smell his cologne on his pulse and it was so rich and masculine. The best part about having a fit boyfriend was that you could feel his muscles pressing against you whenever he wore tight shirts. The firmness was so comforting and not to mention sexy.

Hmph, all the endorphins were making his sexiness hit home-runs. Suddenly his chest wasn't the only hard muscle in the room and I turned into his neck and drew my tongue across it, enough to bring goosebumps to the area. I watched with an evil grin and then repeated, but with my teeth leading the excavation across the pulse of his throat. Edward chuckled breathily and tightened his hold of me. My lips on his Adam's apple, I began unbuttoning his shirt and slipped my hand over his pec, massaging it gently.

Then his hands were on my forearms and I couldn't move. He pulled my palms from his chest and buttoned his shirt slowly, smiling cheekily at me as he assembled himself back to the way he was before I made a move on him. "I have to go to work," he reminded, wiping his neck. "As much as I want to stay, they'll kick my ass at the firm if I'm late." Today I was rebellious and I snarled lustfully at him, refusing to move out of his way so that he could leave. "Jasper!" he chuckled. "I have to go!"

"But you can't," I said plainly, moving my hand to his fly and opening it. "Not with this boner, anyway."

"I'm not hard," he responded incredulously.

"Not yet." I crept my hand into the opening and latched onto him and began stroking quickly over his underwear until his member was a pipe in my hand. "Now, how could you possibly leave with this little problem?"

"Fuck, Jasp," he gasped, his head falling backwards. "I'm g-gonna be late - _fuck_!" He snapped his bottom lip and buckled his hips forward. I could feel his boxers dampening and so I slipped my hand beneath them and touched him skin-on-skin. It was mighty sticky down there and I couldn't possibly let _that_ ensue for much longer, could I? I had to do something about this. With my free hand, I unclasped his belt and drew his trousers down his legs and dropped to my knees, slipping his underwear down as I did so.

"I'm gonna be late," Edward pleaded, before my tongue grazed over his glands and he cursed. "N'aw fuck it. Work can wait."

"Good sport." I held him in my fist and drew my tongue past the tip again. The taste put my nerves on end and I growled with delight. Edward began unbuttoning his shirt as I initially wanted and his left hand began rolling across and caressing his chest while his right rested on the top of my head. I licked up his base and then took the entire length into my mouth. Edward groaned loudly and began thrusting into my face.

Giving a blowjob in the middle of my sitting room was a new experience for us both but that made it all the hotter. I felt fabric float past my face when Edward dropped his shirt from his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. "Kneel on it," he said, panting, and I rewarded his concern with a swirl around his glands. He let out a cry and I smiled with an occupied mouth. I was never this kinky; what came over me? It must've been those endorphins of joy and relief released today, but in any case, neither of us were complaining, especially not Edward who was moaning like an animal.

I was accustomed to his length in my mouth. I knew what he liked and when he liked it. For example, I knew that his little head was the most sensitive part of his body and that if I gave it special attention for more than five minutes, Edward would have an explosive orgasm that would leave him weak for hours upon end. Edward should never have told me it was my birthday because I was particularly lustful today and making him weak before work sounded sexy and cruel at the same time and everyone knew that that was a killer combination!

After acquainting myself with his pubes on numerous descends, I rolled my tongue over his tip one last time and he started. He just started. His hand fisted a gripful of hair on my crown and he pulled my head into his cock forcefully, bringing tears to my eyes. He didn't need to shout "I'm cumming!" at the top of his lungs because when hot liquid shot into my throat and rolled down my esophagus, I didn't need any indication. My fingers laced around his balls and he jerked forward into me and released my hair, sending pinning and stinging pains down my head and neck. When I swallowed and caught my breath, I pulled my mouth from him and looked up, my eyes watery.

Before I could say anything, Edward was apologizing while stroking the remnants from his cock. "Shit, sorry Jasp. Got a bit into it there."

"It's alright," I said, wiping my eyes. "It was sort of hot."

"Masochist," said Edward under his breath before pulling me to his feet and kissing my neck. "Don't think I'm not paying you back on your birthday. You just wait 'till tonight."

As much as my boner was about to pop out of my pants, I understood that he had to leave and willed myself to not jerk off and wait until Edward could have his way with me. "And if you even think about busting after I leave," warned Edward, "then I'll be the worst cockblock you ever met."

"Technically you'll never know," I quipped.

"Oh, I'll know. If you shoot a blank then I'll know right away. From now until tonight, your cock's mine, alright?"

Oh Edward. Like that ever changed. "Sure thing. I promise, I'm all yours."

Edward kissed me then and briefly disappeared into the bathroom where he washed his hands and quickly freshened up before coming back to me and holding my hand loosely. "Tell Julian I said I'm rooting for him. I'm proud of you both of you. Especially you, Jasp. Happy Birthday."

I leaned forward and kissed him. "Thanks, babe." Edward smiled and headed for the door but just as he got to the egress, he stopped and turned around.

"I love you, Jasper."

I stiffened. "Thanks," I said, not sure what else to say. Edward half smiled and departed with a sinking expression and I berated myself and my inability to say those three words. I could say them to Bierce Fitch when she twitched her ears in that cute way and I could say them to Ptero when he cursed out some annoying person on television. Hell, I could even say them to Emmett when we laughed ourselves to tears. And Sofia, well, I must've said them to her a thousand times through emails after her departure. It was just Edward; I couldn't say them to _Edward_.

I moved to the bathroom and brushed my teeth and then got a glass of water from the kitchen. I sat on the sofa and lowered my head to the side with a content smile. Despite a list of obstacles, things weren't looking so bad anymore. Even Aro's threats felt empty and I felt sort of invincible. My work and my home life were going pretty smoothly and I had a lot to be grateful for. Licking my lips, I took a deep breath and stared at the ceiling for a moment, allowing the silence of my apartment to serenade me.

"_Beep! Beep!"_

Huh? What was that? It sounded like my fire alarm was going off and I looked around to investigate but the sound was coming from a device that was much closer to me. Getting my wits about myself, I patted my sides and my hand fell upon my pager. It was ringing and screaming with a tone indicative of true, gut-wrenching severity. I rarely got 911 pages because I was usually so meticulous with my patients' conditions that nothing tended to go wrong. The last time I got paged with an emergency alert was when Carlisle was my patient.

I looked at the screen and I was not mistaken: "Patient 009056. 911/Emergency."

_009056_?

I scratched my head and flicked through my mind. I thought that that number belonged to the elderly patient Mrs. Margins, the one who smoked in her room. No, no. She was 009055. So that meant that the patient in the room to the left of hers was the emergency. I mentally walked through the halls of my work place until I was standing outside her room. In my head, I turned left and approached the next ward and remembered who was inside. Just then, I nearly dropped and smashed the pager.

_"Julian_?" I gasped.


	20. What's Clear and Unclear, Part 2

We're nearing the end :').

* * *

When I ran to the car, Edward was still parked, sorting out the files in his briefcase. Desperately, I banged on the window and swung open the door, my hands shaking. Edward took one look at me and knew something was wrong and he hopped out of the car and snatched my shoulders firmly. "Jasper, speak to me. What's wrong?" he asked, bringing his hand to my cheek and tapping it at medium power, snapping me out of it, but not wholly.

"J-Julian.. there's something wrong. Emergency. T-there's an emergency," I stuttered, my pupils dilated. He didn't let go and he pinched my cheeks between his thumb and other fingers so that I would look at him in the eyes.

"What emergency? Talk to me, Jasp. You said his cancer went into remission, right?"

"It did," I slung-out, not sure if my words were true or not. "No, it _did_. I saw the chart."

"Well then it's just a mistake!" Edward said, letting go of my face. "Come here." He pulled me into him and my heart rate slowed. He was right; it was a mistake. It had to be a mistake. Julian was perfectly fine three hours ago and I even spoke to his parents. They were bound to be with him now too. Yes, yes. This was typical Jasper panicking over needless mistakes. New-Irene was probably still getting used to her new job and paged the wrong surgeon for a different patient. And really, could you blame her? Who could type 009056 and not make a single mistake?

I breathed heavily and let my body shake for a moment. "You're right. It's just a mistake. Sorry." I rubbed my face and asked what had just come over me and Edward watched with concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked, holding my hand without grip. "Do you want me to go back with you?"

"No, no," I drew out. "I've held you back enough already. I'm sure it's just a mistake. You go to work and I'll keep you updated." I forced a smile and kissed his cheek and it was enough to put him at ease. He let go of my hand and smiled back, kissing me in response.

"I'll be home in a few. Don't forget to come home early, ok?" He licked his lips and grinned before his expression transmuted into a more serious one. "And don't worry about Julian, okay Jasp? It was just nothing. He's probably just writing in that green notebook of his right now."

I sighed and wiped my forehead with my hand. "You're right. Sorry for worrying you."

Edward waved it off and kissed me one last time, lowering himself back into his car. "I'll see you later? Text me, alright?"

I nodded and watched his car speed off into the distance before I got into mine and revved the engine like there was no tomorrow. I ran three red-lights, almost hit an old lady and most likely contributed to 50% of the city's overall annual roadkill as I sped at rates far beyond the speed limit until I got to the hospital. I burst in through the entrance of the institution and took the elevator up to General Surgery, not holding the door open for anyone. When I got to my floor, I shambled to New-Irene at reception.

"There's an emergency?" I gasped, panted, desperate to hear of a colossal mistake made on her behalf. New-Irene raised her eyes slowly from her charts to me and gave a knowing nod. I almost shrieked and shook her until she spoke and signaled an intern over to me. When the intern arrived, the jolly Japanese fellow, New-Irene reached for my shoulder.

"It's your patient, Julian Hart. He's in intensive care. Something happened, Dr. Whitlock, and none of us know what it is. He just crashed and the residents barely caught him in time."

"In time for _what_?" I shouted, dropping my car-keys to the floor with a metallic trill. "What the _fuck_ happened?"

"We don't know!" yelped the nurse, waving her hands in front of her face. "He just crashed suddenly. Nobody knows what caused it. That's why we paged you!"

I catapulted down the hall and left New Irene abruptly, panic numbing me to the point that reality became a questionable veil. My foot buckled behind my other heel and I fell flat on my face, my forehead snapping against the cold plasticky floor. An attending came to lift me to my feet but I shot up without aid and continued running towards the intensive care unit, blood slowly creeping down past my eye like an adventurous slug.

I ran. Shit, I never stopped running. My legs felt as foreign as whatever I was bound to face. People blurred past me like colored city lights and I sprinted so quickly that those beside me blended with the wall and I may as well have been in a ghost town. My legs were brushing past one another but yet it didn't feel like I was moving fast enough; I never realized how big the hospital was until I really needed to be in one place at one immediate time. Expectations were out the window and I was advancing towards a fate that I had no insight into. What was going on? What happened to Julian?

When I got to IC, I stopped outside the door and placed my hands on my kneecaps to catch my breath. But when I realized that I was wasting time I slung forward towards the egress, only to be hit in the face - again - by the surface of the door, which swung at me when someone pushed it from the other side. The preexisting gash on my head was twinned with a roommate when the corner of the door split the other end of my forehead and knocked me backwards, right onto the floor. Again.

"Oh my God! I'm sorry, are you okay?" piped the woman who hit me. I was helped to my feet and although my vision strained for a moment, it didn't distract me from the fact I needed to get to Julian. I told her not to worry and was about to go forward when a hand clasped my forearm. "Dr. Whitlock? Are you going to Julian?"

Huh?

I pulled my gaze from the entrance to IC and looked at the woman who, after a moment's thinking, I realized was Julian's mother, Alison. Marching out the doors behind me came his father, Caleb, his face ghostly and phantom-like in its drained complexion. I had just spoken to the couple over the phone shortly after leaving Julian's room and assured them that their son was soon to be discharged. And yet, here they were walking out of the intensive care unit on a day that merited cracking open a bottle of champagne.

"Alison? Caleb?" I cawed, wiping the blood that was invading my eye from above my lash. "Where's Julian? What happened?"

"We don't know," said Alison, clutching to herself with fear. "You told us he was fine and then we get a call to come here right away, that Julian needed us. What happened, Jasper? You said the cancer was gone?" I could barely face her red, salty eyes without feeling ill and Caleb's state wasn't much better.

"I can't give either of you answers," I said, my words tripping over each other. "I need to get in there and see what went wrong. I'm sorry. I'll find you later with an update. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I turned to sprint away until I was called back one last time.

"Your face," said Alison, with a note of concern, "it's bleeding."

Tapping my forehead, I felt blood and she was indeed right but I didn't have time to worry about it. As Edward said, _"stop thinking." _I nodded and entered the IC unit and looked around for Julian. A nurse recognized me and I was guided past rows of pale-blue curtains and at the very end, he was there: White, snowy, stiff, like he was pulled from beneath a layer of early morning frost. His eyes were closed and his body was dead straight and his little green notebook was positioned angularly beside his shoulder. I took a moment. I took many moments. And I counted back from five more than once.

Tears in my eyes, I leaned closer to his face and drew my thumb over his cheek. He was ice-cold and I brought my hand to my mouth.

"What _happened_ to you?" I cried. "You were supposed to go home." My head fell to the side of the bed and God, I couldn't stop sobbing. The nurses and interns watched me but I didn't care, not even slightly. I held myself together for a moment and looked at his face once more. Closer and closer, my eyes focused on his lips and that was when I spotted it. That was when I realized, in one fell shock to the system, what had happened to my friend.

His lips were blue.

And his pupils were dilated. His pulse was weak. And the worst of all was that his fingernails were indigo. I burst out in tears and fell upon his chest, slapping my fist down on the hard surface of the bed-frame. "I'm sorry, Julian. This is all my fault. I'm so sorry." There was a time when I was young when I thought about how my life would be when I was alone; when my parents were gone and I had to deal with things on my own, without someone to step in and help me. Julian, at 14, must've assumed that his parents would step in to save him and through me, they were doing this. I had to save him. I would save him. He was relying on me.

But this was a morphine overdose. There was only one place I'd seen this before and it was when Edward came into my apartment that night with Aro close behind. His lips were blue and his fingertips were of a similar shade and I had to pump his stomach to save him. Luckily, I caught him only minutes after he received the dosage, so in this case, things were different. But only different in relation to the time of administration. The perpetrator was the same. Bits and pieces of images, like a fragmented jigsaw, assembled themselves in my mind and before I could blot the pain from my head, looking at me - when a face formed from this construction - was Aro's dark, black beady eyes.

"You won't have him," I said to myself, my words meant for the culprit. I stood up and turned to the crowd of nurses and interns who watched from behind. "Did anyone see a stranger walk into this boy's room?"

There was a hush amongst the nurses until one of them stepped forward. "Other than you and the boy's uncle, no," she said. "Why? What happened to him?"

Fire within my stomach emboldened me to punch down on the bedside table and I let out a growl. "Did you stop to think that maybe that man _wasn't_ his uncle?"

"Please, Dr. Whitlock. We don't have time for this," interjected New-Irene swiftly. "His organs are in shock and we've given him the total amount of Naloxone possible to counter the morphine. But his heart's being artificially pumped and you need to operate with electro cardiac treatment _now_. Are you in a state to scrub in or shall I page another surgeon?"

Her words sharp and glassy, I realized the severity of what was happening. But I couldn't dwell on it. I had to lobotomize myself of all emotions for Julian's sake - for the sake of this unexpected operation. I fastened my surgical coat. "Three interns, two nurses and page an anesthesiologist. Take OR 5 and close off the viewing deck. Someone find Alice and Caleb Hart and tell them that the situation is under control." I turned off my pager, cracked my knuckles and looked over at Julian. "You're gonna be just fine, buddy. I promise."

* * *

Washing my hands and arms, I prepped myself for surgery despite ignoring the two gashes on my forehead that I didn't have time to treat. All the smells and colors of the OR that I hadn't paid attention to since I was an intern were suddenly alive. Blue was the denominating color of the room and the scent was like chlorine or bleach, something very alkaline.

Julian was prepped on the table with a surgical hat and a tube in his mouth and the heart monitor was beside him, pulsing with fragility. I was no cardiac surgeon and so operating on the heart wasn't exactly my surgical forté but I was qualified to do this surgery nonetheless. My two years of residency gave me a well-rounded overview of the body before I specialized in General Surgery and so it was a matter of dusting off some peripheral skills. I wouldn't trust anyone else to do this surgery, not even the head of Cardio, and even New-Irene knew this and that was why I was here, standing over Julian's white body with no other surgeons. At my side was simply a team of nurses, two interns and an anesthesiologist.

"Count with me," I said to my team, the scalpel in my right hand after the iodine was applied to my friend's chest. "We've all known Julian for a long time now and so this isn't easy for any of us." I placed the scalpel back into the tray and took a breath. "But he's relying on us to make him better, and his parents are relying on us to save their son and we need to come through for them, for him. None of us know what happened here today for sure but we can't think about it. We just need to work our magic. Alright? Are we ready? _Five_." The other voices in the OR joined in and I picked up my cutting tool. "_Four_." The nurses neared my side and my interns grabbed the suction pipes and surgical lights. "_Three_." The heart monitor's constant beeping and clicking acted like clockwork in our ears but we blotted it out, we blotted everything out. "_Two_." The anesthesiologist gave me a nod and I leaned closer and whispered one last apology to Julian before the tip of the knife touched his chest. The interns positioned the clamp. "_One_."

"Let's go." The scalpel tip drew across Julian's chest and the interns jumped in with the suction pipes. The electric saw was almost shoved into my hands and with the interns as my eyes, I cut through the sternum of the ribs to access his weak, morphine-numbed heart. The clamp was placed in to give me optimum access and we stopped and a nurse wiped my forehead with a tissue to remove the sweat and blood.

"Panels," I called out, calmly, pressing my stomach inward to push away the fear that dwelled within it. "Turn off the bypass at my call." Julian's heart was being artificially sustained by a pump and I hoped, and begged, that when the pump was turned off, I could use electrocardiac therapy to jolt it back into operation. The morphine slowed down his organs so much to the point that his heart needed external help to beat. The doctors rightfully countered the morphine with a neutralizing drug and so the final obstacle here that put Julian in jeopardy was the fact his organs were dealing with the aftermath of the bodily sabotage.

The firmness of the panels in my hand in contrast with the rawness of Julian's heart made me realize how vulnerable the child was this entire time. I knew Aro met him, and I knew Aro had snuck into the hospital as his "uncle" before with the intentions of meeting me to suggest his offer of "eliminating the Edward problem." But _I_ expected to take the brunt of the consequences for not going with Aro's plan to kill the man I loved. _I_ expected to take the burden to save anyone else from harm, and _I_ expected to be on that operating table. Not Julian. Not a 14 year old boy who had nothing to do with my problems, Aro, the offer, or any of the fucked up events that had taken place. This wasn't supposed to happen. It was supposed to be _me _under the scalpel, if anyone.

_~ "He's not humane enough to kill us all and get on with it. He'd kill one of us, and would make the other live with it. Or he mightn't even kill either of us, but maybe my mom, your dad, or my dad instead. This guy's fucked up, Jasp. I don't want you to forget that."~_

Edward's words resonated through me like a bereaved gong. He was right from the very beginning; I was never the target here. Even though I tore Aro's offer right up in front of him, he never planned to harm me for my declination. It was always going to be someone close to me because he knew that that would hit me harder. But I could never have delved into the levels and degrees of chaos that Aro had mapped out for Edward and I, so was I wrong for being naive? Was I stupid for not thinking that Emmett, Sofia, my or Edward's parents, Julian and anyone else who Edward and I cherished were the targets from the start? Perhaps I was. I mean, Edward's assets were in my name; so of course Aro wouldn't have eliminated me; he needed me to sign the assets into his name. But Julian was the collateral this entire time. When I defaulted, Aro acted. I saved Edward from harm over Julian and I had no idea what I was walking myself into. I never knew that one of those two special people would suffer as a result of my choices, my actions.

I watched his heart, its intricate tubes, the vena cava and I told myself that this was just another organ of just another patient. These were the things we surgeons had to do, our punishment for getting emotionally attached to patients. And I stood, panels high, and trembled in a silent core of waiting. The bypass machine was turned off and I acted. Bringing the panels to the walls of the heart, I sandwiched the organ between each metallic plate and glanced over at the intern. "Charge to 150W."* I said, my words projecting firmly.

"_Clear_."

Currents surged through the organ and it jolted like a bobble-head. We stopped and waited; waited for a beat. But the only beat in the room was _my_ heart, which palpitated and vibrated in my throat. When the bypass machine was switched off, there was nothing keeping Julian's heart in motion; the only chance was to shock it to life as I had just done and if that failed, we failed. I failed, and I failed him.

"Charge to 200W," I called again, keeping my voice steady. As the panels generated, the nurse wiped the blood from my forehead again and I focused. "_Clear_!" The surge was evanescent and the heart bulged. On the edge, waiting and waiting, I anticipated his heart to contract on its own accord but nothing happened. It was just there, exposed to the elements, and not serving its purpose. "Come on, you bastard!" I shouted at the organ. "_Move_!"

"Charge to 250W!" I groused. The nurses worked duly and just as the machine recharged, New-Irene turned to me with a sullen expression transfixed on her face and said, "Dr. Whitlock, this is as high as we can go. If this doesn't work -"

"_Clear_!" I shot the panels back onto the heart and the power was so strong, so pulsating, that I felt it in my hands, a cool vibration, a steady vibrato. The heart was stagnant, as a phantom of its former self, and my eyes began to globe with seas of tears. The nurses crowded me from behind and one of them placed a hand on my back, her condolences reminding me that it wasn't over yet.

"Give it time," I said to them, keeping my eye on the organ. New-Irene placed a hand on my shoulder and looked up at the time. I moved over to Julian's face and looked at his closed eyes and pipe-filled mouth and nodded from side to side. "He's got five minutes," I said, pressing hope into my tone. "The heart can survive another five minutes after turning off the bypass. There's still a chance."

"Dr. Whitlock-"

"There's _still_ a chance!" I shouted. "Let's charge again at 250W, maybe it just needs another jolt. You hear of complacent hearts all the time. We deal with overdoses every day and I've never heard of one leading to a death in this hospital." New-Irene turned to the other nurses and asked them to busy themselves about tools in the OR and to organize shelves that didn't need to be organized.

"Dr. Whitlock," she said softly, narrowed pupils glued to mine. "Even if we were to charge at 250W again, there's no certain chance his brain will operate normally. The morphine slowed down his heart and deprived him of oxygen. We have to call time of death or take a risk and keep resuscitating him, but if it's the risk you want to take, you need to take it right _now_."

"I know what my options are! Charge to 250W!" New-Irene nodded pessimistically and beckoned to her colleagues to charge the machine. When I heard the moan of the electricity rise to the ceiling like a balloon, I called, "_Clear_!" The boom startled my nerves again and the hairs on my neck and arms stood straight up like tombstones. The heart graph spiked when the electricity took effect and then dropped to a near horizontal when the charge fell flat. But I didn't lose hope. I couldn't lose hope. I watched and wished life into the organ with every fiber that constituted me.

But it didn't move.

The nurses fell silent. The interns didn't move and a muffled sob croaked from the back of the crowd of medical personnel. It was like they'd given up already. But I couldn't accept that. I wouldn't accept that. My tears merging with the blood on my forehead, I dropped the panels into the tray and changed my gloves, my mind one-tracked and indignant. "What're you doing?" asked my intern, exchanging a curious glance with a nurse.

"Massaging his heart," I said monotonically, bringing my hands to the flesh of the organ and rubbing my thumbs around its globes circularly. My fingers stroked the edges of the muscles and swoshed the blood all around the surface. My wrists deep in Julian's chest, I methodically applied pressure at timed intervals to school the heart into regular motion again. Usually you could feel the heart pick itself up and then you'd know to let go, but I couldn't feel anything from Julian's. Just stillness. There was blood up my wrists, far beyond the elastics of the gloves and my face was no exemption from the coloring. Everything was red: my scrubs, my gloves, my mask. Everything. All was blurred and distilled in a vivid cerise and yet to me, in my eyes, it was colorless. So colorless.

"Time of death, 18:52pm," called the intern. "It's over, Dr. Whitlock. He's gone."

"It's not over!" I cried, pressing harder on the muscle. "He needs more time. He's got that girl, Wendy, to bring to prom. A-and he's got to finish his book. You know, the little green one. His parents want him to try out for the football team. He's got all the time in the world." The blood from my head dripped onto my face mask and suddenly, the heart monitor crashed, a long stale siren emitting from its speakers. The extended vowels, the monotonous tone, the singular pitch.. they made me wail out in agony and I gasped and massaged harder on the heart.

"Come on, Jul. You've been through worse than this. Just do this one last thing for me and you'll never see the inside of an OR again, I promise."

"Dr. Whitlock, please, you have to stop. He's gone. It's been ten minutes, you can't revive him," informed New-Irene, her eyes damp. I rubbed every tube, the vena cava, the chambers, everything. It was supposed to work. _This_ was supposed to work. I went to press one last time on a ventricular chamber but when white, elastic hands clutched around my wrists, I was separated from the surgical table and I bawled out loud, shouting his name over and over. Over and over.

"Let me go!" I yelled, red blood-imbued tears streaming down my cheeks. "Let go of me!" Julian's body moved further and further from me and my shoulders were locked with the force of clambering hands, pulling me out of the OR. The dark, blue tint of the operating room was shut behind two heavy doors and I was in the hall, blood drenched and frantic, with New-Irene and my intern standing close beside me. I leapt forward to go back in, to massage the heart some more, but my colleagues restrained me and I stumbled backwards, balancing myself against the wall that caught me, panting with widened eyes of disbelief.

"I have to go back in," I sobbed, ripping off my mask. "Please, let me go back in. There's still time."

"Dr. Whitlock, there _is_ no time. You did your best in there but now we need to step back and let the investigation take over. Go home, take a break. Call it a day." New-Irene brought a hand to my shoulder and I shrugged it off, seeking solace in staring at entrance to the OR. "I'll tell his parents if you'd like."

Eyes stinging, chest wide and skin tainted, I drew my hand down my face and turned around, ambling down the hall. New-Irene called out to me but I kept walking with no destination in mind. I passed the staff bathroom and was drawn to it like a crow to a cemetery and when inside, I emptied my stomach into the basin. I wretched so ferociously that I was swallowing air and coughing it out again. When I fell to the side, wiping the seeping blood from my forehead, my head began to spin and my eyes couldn't focus on the ceiling light that was coming close and then panning away from me.

There was a knock on the door and I pulled myself up and left, shocking the man who was waiting outside with my scarlet scrubs and face. I heard New-Irene call to me again but her voice was like a caw upon a sea-storm; distant, far and mute upon my ears. I found myself inside Julian's room, his empty bed back where it belonged and his books, game consoles, comics and notepad all positioned the way he left them. His green book jutted out from the corner of his duvet and I walked up to it and hovered my finger tips over its front, trying to feel closer to him somehow, someway.

I never knew what was in it, he refused to tell me. He always said that someday he would let me look but we never came to that. I pulled it out from beneath the sheets and stared at it for a few minutes, deliberating whether I wanted, or had to power to, open it. But I wanted to know what his last thoughts were. In a way, I needed to know. I slowly folded the hard cover over and looked at the first page, the page he started four years ago. It described how his parents told him about his cancer and how he didn't like the squishiness of the hospital bed. A few pages later, he mentioned how his dad brought in a TV for him and he got to watch all his favorite football games. I coughed a sob and smiled with sadness, my head moving from side to side. I realized that this notepad was a diary of sorts and when this struck me, I skipped until the very end, not wanting to read, out of respect.

But the last pages, they meant something. I wanted to know that he was happy. I saw my name in a paragraph that corresponded to the day he told me why he didn't want to leave his room anymore - the day I brought Edward in. As my eyes scanned the text, memories beckoned my tears. I got to the last page, the last sentence that Julian ever wrote, and my dark eyes drew over his squiggly, smudged handwriting. I dropped the book.

_"When I grow up, I want to be just like Jasper."_

I didn't know what to feel, how to feel. It was anger, a word that went beyond despair and regret that twirled in me and fueled me to stumble to my feet and leave the room, my hand over my mouth and my head light. He wanted to be like _me_? The person who brought Aro into his life? "H-how?" I muttered to myself. If he never met me, he would still be alive. I wasn't a good enough person. I wasn't a good enough surgeon. I wasn't deserved of his words. My hand in my pocket, I took out my carkeys and looked around for an exit. The walls were close, trapping me, and the way everyone in the halls were getting with their lives - laughing, talking, working - made me look at them in disbelief. How could they be _smiling_ at a time like this? How could life just simply go on when such a tragedy had taken place?

I turned to leave and I almost walked into a meek, thin lady who struck a chord of familiarity with me. She seemed to recognize me too and we stared at each other for a moment; it was almost like she was the same, walking aimlessly in search of meaning, help. "A-Alice?" I said slowly, blinking.

"Doctor.. Whitlock?"

We stared for a moment longer until she yelped quietly under her breath and wiped her eyes. "Jasper.. we heard the news. J-Julian's-?" She stopped and covered her eyes, salted streams pouring out between the gaps of her fingers. "My baby is-?"

"I'm sorry, Alice." That was all I could say. Anything else would've been insufficient, and my mouth bobbed as if to say more, but nothing came out. "I'm sorry."

"But he was _fine_," she cried. "And a doctor told us he died of a _morphine_ overdose? H-how? How does that happen?"

"The police have been called," I said, my tone at one pitch. "It wasn't supposed to happen. It was supposed to be me. Excuse me." Unable to look at her, to face her, I turned to leave but she held onto my arm and stopped me, tear drops gathering on her jawline.

"W-what do you mean? Jasper, what happened? Please, what happened to my son?"

"I-" I thought about telling her, about telling her everything. From Aro, to Edward, to the debt, the assets, the offer, _everything_. But I stopped. The police were involved now and proper closure would only come from a formal procedure, not the words of a bereaved, blood-covered doctor. It was no secret that morphine had no business being around Julian and his death was not natural, but rather, intentional. Alice had just lost her son and I could relate to her state. The last thing I wanted to do was unload another burden on her even though I was the only person besides Aro who knew for sure of the truth. It wasn't my place to put that on her, despite feeling compelled to break down and share it all with her, so I rotated my back and walked away slowly, unevenly. "I-I have to go."

I left her in the middle of the hall, amidst the hustle and bustle and I brought myself outside into the night. The stars were inescapable and I walked under them to my car, in which I sat for a time beyond clocks before driving in the direction of my home. I was in no state to drive, that much was clear, and at every red-light it took the car behind me to beep before I broke my gaze from the vibrant, taunting red. Everything was red. Everything.

When I got to the apartment block, I pilgrimed to my floor as I always did and felt a sense of finality in doing so. I wouldn't do this walk again. Not as Jasper. Not as the person I knew, or Edward knew, or Emmett knew. But rather, as someone else. Someone with blood all over his scrubs and face whose actions led to the death of an innocent, a young boy, a friend. Jiggling my keys from my pocket, I stuck the tip in the door and opened it. It was late now and Edward was probably asleep so I made sure to open the door quietly, since it tended to creak.

And in the darkness of the immediate living room, my mind projected Julian's face into the nothingness and I stopped, eyes uncovered, and stared despairingly, bringing my arm forward to touch his pure, white face. But then it was gone, just like that, and the lights turned on and blinded me, making me clutch to the doorframe to balance myself.

"Surprise!" shouted a group of people, each possessing a party hat and a glass of wine. Silently, my eyes traced from each face, from Emmett, to Carlisle, to Esme, to a returned Sofia and finally to Edward, my dear Edward and I watched as their eyes grew wide at the sight of me. They looked so happy, so pure and reminiscent of how I wished things were and I dropped my keys to the floor and slung my arms to my sides. There was no hiding the blood and I heard an audience member clear his throat.

"Surprise, Jasper!" called Edward, raising from his chair and nearing me despite my appearance. "I told you I had something planned, right? Well here it is! Sofia came all the way here just for you and - Jasper? Are you okay?" He halted and watched me. From my face, however, he knew immediately that something happened and his tone drastically changed. "Jasper? Jasper, what happened?" He held onto my arms around my elbows firmly and beckoned me to look at him. "Jasper, what happened to you? Whose blood is that?"

"I-I," I stuttered because that's all I could do and when I saw so many eyes looking at me, no longer imbued with happiness and joy but horror and shock, I wailed out into my hand and turned away, advancing on the emptiness of the halls to get away from everyone. Edward exchanged a glance with our friends in the room before chasing after me, calling and calling.

When I got outside, the rain was pelleting down and it washed the blood from my face in smooth, red streaks and stained my blue scrubs with mud-colored blotches. The rain provided a noise to block out all sound and it, along with the wheels and the puddles, the murmur of street walkers and the revving of engines, drowned out my cries. Edward appeared and pulled me beneath the eaves of the apartment building and sandwiched my cheeks between his curled fingers. But I kept crying at Julian's face that assembled in my mind.

"It's all my fault," I howled, trying to break from my lover's grasp. "I caused it.. it was me."

"Jasper, talk to me!" Edward commanded, holding me firm. "What happened?"

"Julian died," I called out, not to him in particular but rather to myself, to the Gods, to Aro. Edward's grip fell from my cheeks and we were apart, standing in front of each other without contact, the wind deceiving us both and carrying the rain into our faces. "He died," I drew out. "He died today. I-I was too late.. I couldn't save him."

"Jasper-"

"H-he was fine. His cancer was in remission.. he was supposed to leave, to graduate, to go to college.. I-"

Pulled into Edward's arms, I was held tightly. But for once I didn't feel safe. His touch was an elixir until now and I stood in his grasp, cold, wet and saturated with blood that was only partially my own. "His heart gave in.. Edward, I tried. I did everything. I even charged to 250W and I massaged it myself. He just.. he just died."

"I'm here, Jasp, please. Come inside."

"I can't," I said, weeping and pulling away. "I-I need to go back to the hospital. I left Alice, his mom, there in the hall.. I need to go back. I need to see his parents." I wiped my face with my hands and waited as Edward withdrew his keys.

"I'll bring you. You can't go alone.. we can talk to his parents together."

I nodded. "N-no, I have to talk to them. I was his doctor.. I have to." Edward's face contorted and he shook his head, coming to a stubborn conclusion that he felt I wouldn't argue with.

"You can't go on your own. I can't even imagine what's happening so just let me bring you. I'll be beside you the whole time."

"Go inside," I demanded, my voice trembling in post-sobbing sound-lengths . "Please just go where it's safe. I need to do this. I'll be home later." I snatched the keys from his hand and advanced towards his car, opening the door and sitting inside. Edward came to the window and waited for me to open it. Impatient, he opened the door and held my shoulder.

"You can't go alone, Jasper. I'm coming."

I pushed him back and closed the door before cracking the window and moving my lips to it. "Go inside. I'll be home tonight." I revved the engine and began to reverse despite Edward's pleas and I drove off in the direction of St. Jay's Memorial Hospital with nothing else in my mind but seeing Alice and Caleb Hart and saying one last goodbye to my dear Julian.


	21. Jasper's Farewell

Only one more chapter after this one. It's been great, everyone, thank you. I cannot possibly thank you enough.

* * *

My mother's voice always chose when to echo through my mind. "Someday I won't be here to prepare you for the next corner in life and you'll have to turn it on your own," she would say, after a death in the family or when I fractured my arm. It wasn't as if she truly prepared me for anything beyond an easel or a dinner party but her words resonated with meaning regardless. Nothing could have prepared me for this, for the blood that covered my face and scrubs, and where it came from.

And what it represented.

The hospital was a cemetery. It was one giant morgue and when I arrived, the continual rain that pelleted down upon it and the brief scintillations of lightning in the background proved my new perception worthy. It was late and many of the lights in the wards were flicked off. Save the main hall, it looked like a ghost-town or an abandoned building and as I approached it, the lightning ignited my path with elusive flashes of neon-blue that blinded me like a camera in the face.

The staff that knew of Julian were walking as I was: Lifelessly. New-Irene had returned to the nurses' reception desk and was reading a book upside down. My Japanese intern was polishing the covers of the hard-fronted charts and the anesthesiologist who administered the sedative to Julian was looking over the shoulder of a nurse engaging him. I ambled in and strolled up to New-Irene, blinking the raindrops out of my eyes.

"Dr. Whitlock," she said, looking at me but not surprised by my state. "You're back." I nodded and she read my face and knew exactly what I wanted, where I wanted to go and where I needed to be. "This way," she said, taking my hand and leading me down halls I could no longer recognize. Doors were windows and windows were walls; none of it made any sense and frankly, how could it? How could anyone look at this place the same after what happened here? Everything was tainted. Everything reflected Aro because this was his strong-hold now, not mine.

"Here we are," blew New-Irene, looking at me as if to decipher whether or not I was in a state to go on without company. The slide on the door was all that had my attention and the word "morgue" branded itself, in red, in the front of my memory. Bleary eyed, I fiddled with the doorknob and pushed open the door slowly, as if something was to jump out at me. It was dark inside. But at least it wasn't red.

It smelt like steel and the room was aloof with coldness. On the walls were square doors that were accentuated with metallic handles that allowed for the these small compartments to open. New-Irene stepped past gracefully and was careful not to bump into me. She opened the hatch to vault 43 and when steel clicked against steel, Julian was slid out upon a tray and lay before my glimmering, drained eyes. There were no tears left to fall.

Kneeling down to his level, I brought a shaken hand to his cheek where it looked like he'd been kissed by Jack Frost. And he was just as cold as the morgue that encased us both. His eyes were shut and I drew my thumbs slowly over them, remembering how he too had passed tears when he discovered that he and I would be parting ways. But he looked the same; that was the part that swelled me with despair. I found myself saying "it's okay, it's nothing I can't operate on. He'll be in recovery in no time." But I _had_ operated. And I had failed. This wasn't something I could fix, despite my foolish notions. This wasn't something I could plug into my laptop and recharge. This was death, and it always got its way.

"Can I have a moment?" I said to New-Irene, turning my head from Juliun for a second. With a nod, she was gone and I angled back to my patient regretfully.

"I'm sorry, Jul," I said, finding his curled fingers and ensnaring them in mine. "This is my fault. I-" The raindrops and blood dripped from my head and hit the floor with a metallic tingle and I gathered myself, each second feeling like an eternity. "I wish you never met me. T-that's the truth.. that's how I feel. I hope you're not mad that I read your notebook, your diary. You said you wanted to be like me and I'm sorry I lead you to think that. Because in truth you should hate me. You should hate me for not protecting you. B-but if you never met me, there'd be nothing to protect you _from_ and you'd still be here. So I'm sorry. I-I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for not being the person you thought I was. And -"

I paused.

"And I'm sorry it's you on that tray and not me."

My neck didn't support my head and it descended onto Julian's throat where it stayed. My eyes closed and I waited. I wasn't sure what for, but I waited for something to strike me. But inside, beyond the despair and bottomless sadness, was anger and bitterness. They wretched within me and corroded who I was, what I was, and how I defined myself. I could feel myself slipping into darkness, into redness, and into a world utterly colorless.

Then the sadness was gone.

The anger was gone too. And all was stagnant, numb. Emotions were stars of a foreign constellation, stars that spelt out 'no return,' and I leaned forward and kissed Julian's forehead, where its coldness went unnoticed to my frosty, lifeless lips. I wobbled slowly to my feet and walked out, as if blinded by headlights. New-Irene looked at me like I was an emergency and probed my countenance for signs of life or vacancy but saw none. I ambled past her slowly and made my way outside and into my car. Inside, I sat and stared out at the gloomy sky and dark hospital. Where was the world? Where was everything I knew? A guttural cry was heard by the people parked in the car next to me and I wailed out, shouting and screaming with regret, and daring the Gods to test me further. Palms slapping repeatedly against the steering-wheel, I struggled in my seat as if it was holding me prisoner and my finger laced around the clip of the door and I fell out, gasping for air, my hands firmly on the gravel as I hung halfway out of my vehicle.

"I'll fucking get you Aro," I shouted breathily, my spit planting into the cracks of the tarmac.

"Who's Aro?" asked a voice whose derivative stood before me. My eyes launched up vertically to see Alice Hart standing alone in the rain and holding a clutch before her pelvis. Her skirt was long and she was so feeble; more brittle than Esme when Carlisle was first admitted to me. My chin almost touching the tarry floor, I maneuvered my way to my feet and neared Alice, wiping my face with my soaked arms.

"Jasper, what's going on?" she asked, the rain pouring down her face also. My hands were then in hers, before I could pull them away, and I was peering into her eyes, her wide blue eyes that she'd passed on to Julian "I lost my son today and you won't even look at me. What _happened_ in there, Jasper, please? W-was it his cancer?"

A lifetime later, I mustered my powers to reply and broke eye-contact, lowering my focus to the underworld. "No," I sighed, bitterly, as if I had to wake up from a dream. "A-Alice, for your sake I can't tell you everything. But Julian didn't die from natural causes. I-I mean, it sounds that way, but it was premeditated."

"Premeditated?" she gasped. "My little boy was.. _killed_?"

"The police? Alice, have you spoken with the police?" Her hands slid from mine, slowly, in time with reality.

"They're investigating," she blurted through tears. "Have _you_ spoken with them?"

"I will. It'll come out. I'm sorry."

"You keep saying that," she projected, her arms draped by her sides now. "But what does it mean? Just tell me what happened to my _boy_!"

"It wasn't an accident, Alice, I'm sorry. But I'll make it right. I promise. I owe it to you and Caleb, and to him."

Suddenly my shoulders were locked between forceful hands and Alice Hart's face was much closer than anticipated and it was no longer sullen and forlorn. She wasn't too feeble either. "Don't you disappear into that car and leave me here. How dare you tell me that my son, my child, was killed and then expect me to watch you drive away into the distance. That's not happening, doctor. I just had to speak for two hours with a detective about my son - they're saying a 'criminal investigation is underway' and I'm scared. And above all, I don't know anything. Everyone's keeping me in the dark and it's _my_ baby who died today. Now please, _tell_ me what's going on." I envied the tears that fell from the bases of her eyes; she was _feeling_, and that was more than I could say.

My lungs expanded, I nodded from side-to-side in disbelief before telling her everything. From meeting Edward in that Latin bar, to that night Aro came in and drugged my boyfriend with the same medicine that killed her son. I told her about the 'offer' and how I expected to take the hit for not accepting it, but instead it was Julian. She asked me where Julian specifically came into the equation and I told her about the day Aro paid me a visit in the hospital and met him. I told her how the villain must've picked up on how close we were. She cried and she hugged me and the worst of it was when she thanked me. She thanked me for being honest with her but I was ashamed. She was lauding the very cause of her son's death and I asked her not to tell any of this to the police until tomorrow at noon at the earliest. She asked me why, but I drew the line there. This was one thing I couldn't tell her.

I simply didn't want her to know that I had no intentions of allowing the police to get to Aro before I did.

* * *

My car came to a sudden halt when I got home and I stared out at the Seattle skyline for a moment. All around me was dark, from the leather of my car to the abyss of space, everything save the golden shine of the city was engulfed in blackness. But when I looked out over the skyline I realized that behind each light was a story. Each bulb had been placed in by a person with a past, with memories, with feelings, and it now took its place amongst a luminous collective that constituted the shine of this North-Western city. Lights were what we left behind when we did something or went somewhere, from turning on a bedroom lamp to the powering on a commercial urban square, they were like little immortal humans. They would shine when we passed on. And I wondered whether Julian's life had somehow led to the existence of one of those city lights. I liked to think he was the brightest one.

The lights in my apartment block were all off, except for one window on one of the central floors: The window to my living room, where Edward was. Just then, I didn't know how I managed to smile woefully. It just happened, and the feeling that came with it was so slight that I wasn't sure if it was a feeling at all.

When I got to my floor, I fiddled with the keys again. This was my ritual. And when I opened the door, the room was dark save a dim lamp by the window and the shine of the television, which had been muted. As I walked further in, I noticed Edward lying on the sofa, shirtless, with one of those dorky party hats on. There was a flattened rose tucked under his hip and a box of spilled chocolates on the floor. And he was snoring slightly, like a baby or a calf. He looked so peaceful, and there it was again: The smile. I smiled and I briefly felt warmth balm me before it flitted away before I could hold onto it, feel it.

Then Edward opened his eyes.

"Jasper!" he gasped, flicking upright like he'd been electrocuted. "You're home early!" He shuffled to the floor and cursed at the spilled chocolates before gathering half of them up one by one and quickly turning to withdraw the rose from underneath him, even though the petals ripped off as he pulled it. Before my eyes, he sat crookedly, upright, with a headless rose and a half filled box of chocolates extended towards me in his hands. The string on his party hat snapped and fell to the floor before he groused a curse at it and glanced back at me with a spurious smile intended, clearly, to pretend things were going according to plan.

I blinked at him while he flustered about the sofa to gather his preparations and I watched, sort of confused at his imbroglio, until it occurred to me that he was simply trying to cheer me up. But my pensive expression defeated him and he lowered the chocolates and headless rose to the coffee table and sighed. "I'm sorry Jasper," he drew out, "I really messed this up, didn't I? I know it's a cheap move but I just wanted you to relax tonight. It's been a sad day and I can't imagine what you're going through. I just thought I'd help take your mine off it so you could get some hours sleep. But I sorta fell asleep myself! And this stupid rose! It fell apart! And those chocolates too, the box was so flumsy. Fuck, this is such a mess. Jasper, I-"

"Edward," I said, not blinking.

".. can make it up to you. Let me pick up the rest of the chocolates. 5 second rule, right? I'll make it look as good as new and you won't even know. And the flower? Shit, ugh. How about I put the petals in the bath and-"

"Edward," I interjected.

".. I'll even let you run the water, 'cause you say I always make it too hot. But that's only because too hot is better than too cold. Nothing worse than a cold bath! Shit, but you probably don't want to bother with all that, do you? Maybe a shower's more practical? Balls. Ugh, I swear I had this planned to a T.. But I-"

"Edward," I said with finality and a funereal, dim smile.

He stopped babbling, as if someone had pinched his tongue, and he raised his gaze slowly to mine, his eyes like a rickety elevator clocking through the levels.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"I love you."

The petals, the chocolates and Edward's bottom jaw fluttered to the floor.

"Y-you do?" he asked, emerald eyes exploding with wonder.

I smiled faintly, heavy, warm, human. "I do."

* * *

This wasn't about pleasure or lust. This wasn't about physical attraction. And this wasn't about sex.

This was about two people who needed each other. Amidst death and grief, this was how we could feel again and remember that despite the inevitable husky knell of the funeral bells, we still had each other. No matter what, we had each other. And as Edward pressed into me with rhythm, I could feel again. I could feel his love and he could feel mine and for a moment there, I felt like a person again. Not this negative-human that I'd become but rather a fully-fledged person, with feelings and emotions veining from my heart. During this time with Edward, things were _clear_.

I loved him so much and he was the only reason I hadn't lost myself altogether. From his eyes, to his gruffy exterior and immaculate jaw-line.. I loved every part of him, and that was just the outside. There was more below the surface, these were only his lights. Beneath them was a beautiful, kind hearted person who never let my brightness dim. He said that I was the best thing to ever happen to him, but he was wrong. He was the best thing to ever happen to me, without a shadow of a doubt. He made me feel whole again.

His groans and his heat spoke words to me: He was alive. And being around this intense life made me feel alive too. His length sliding into me made emotions surge through me and I held them to my heart, closely, because I knew I'd lose them again. "Edward," I called. "I love you so much."

I was met by a harder thrust. "I love you too Jasp," he gasped, falling forward to kiss me. Muscle slid against muscle and he pulled out, only to begin sliding against my length with his own and locking his tongue around mine. He repeated those three words I could never say over and over and when he did, every song in the world suddenly made sense to me. From hiphop love tunes to orchestral pieces of strings and brass, they weren't just pretty melodies anymore but words that reflected those that ran through my mind right here and now. This was what it was like to be in love.

Our movements were melodic and we were one. We knew exactly where and how the other was going to move without saying it because I knew what he liked and vice versa. We knew each other that well. In fact, I didn't know anyone as well as I knew Edward. I shouldn't have been surprised that he threw a party for me and I equally shouldn't have been surprised when he cleared out all the guests when he heard the news about Julian. I knew that he always put me first and on one hand I knew how fortune I was to have met someone like that, but on the other it left a lot for me to live up to. And I didn't feel worthy of him.

I didn't feel worthy of anyone, really. Not after what happened with Julian. Before we went to bed, as Edward was fixing up the wounds on my forehead, I couldn't help but feel that I deserved these lacerations. Moreover, they represented pain; and pain was a feeling, at least. He told me that Sofia wished me her best and that she planned to stay in Seattle for two weeks so we still had time to see her if I wanted, or as he put it, "if that would make you feel better."

Then, of course, he asked me how Julian died. I grimaced unconsciously and he apologized for asking, understanding that I didn't want to relive the experience. Except he deserved to know. But like Alice, he would learn all of the details soon enough. Shortly after he wakes up he would find out. My secrecy was coming to an end.

After Edward climaxed and caused me to come to an identical end, he wrapped his arm under my head and pulled me into him softly. I gripped to him and held tightly, not wanting to face the roller-coasters beyond our bedroom. Then I felt numb again, dulled and distilled as if in a capsule of morphine. But watching Edward's sleepy idiosyncrasies helped a little and I kept my eyes on his twitching nose and prickly jawline. It all the sooner made me want to cry.

But it was time to go now. Edward was asleep and I had somewhere else to be. With thoughts channeling through my mind wildly, I quietly crawled out of bed and neared the closet where I began to change into a raincoat, Edward's raincoat. Finding an umbrella, my shoes and everything, I was ready to leave. But before, there were three things to be done. Placing my hand in Ptero's cage, I ruffled his chest and gave him a smile, albeit a hopeless one. "I'll miss you buddy," I said. "Take care of Edward for me." His eyes followed me as I then went to Bierce Fitch and gave her a scratch behind the ear. "Don't try to kill Ptero and do as Edward says, ok?" She yawned felinely and let out a squeak and I was content. Finally, I returned to Edward and took in his sight for a moment: His stubbly jaw and regale disposition. He was so beautiful, even while in one of his deep, irrevocable sleeps. Treading lightly, I tiptoed to his side of the bed and leaned over him, holding his cheek in my hand.

"I'm leaving, Edward," I said, drawing my thumb over the side of his face. "There's someone I have to meet and I have to go alone. I don't know what'll happen but just know that I'm always with you, now and tomorrow. I know you'll be good, or at least, I hope you'll be. Stay with our friends because they'll guide you, ok? Emmett's not as bad as he seems but if he acts up, there's always Sofia." Edward shifted in his slumber and I held my voice and waited until it was safe to continue. "I'm sorry for leaving you in the dark, but I did it for you so that you'd be safe. Because I love you. I'm sorry I couldn't say that sooner too - you deserved to hear it. No, you deserve to hear it everyday.. either by me, or by whoever you love after me. But we'll never be apart for too long, right? I mean, I'll always wait for you. Yeah, I'll always wait for you, I'm certain of that." I leaned forward, kissed his lips and held the embrace for as long as possible . He stirred for a moment but fell back into his dreams and I smiled, taking one last look at him, at the man I'd come to love more than myself. "Goodbye, Edward."

There was a superstition that said that looking back at someone after a goodbye was bad luck. So I didn't look back at Edward; I just turned and left that apartment and didn't take a moment to dwell on it. I wanted what was best for all of them, Bierce Fitch and Ptero included. It was about 4am now and the halls were dark and empty. It was hard to decipher one room from the next but when I came to Emmett's, I stopped and wished him the best. He _deserved_ the best also.

Then I got in my car and dialed that notorious number. "I need to see you," I groused, when the line picked up. "I need to see you _now_."

"Ah Jasper," sang Aro. "I've been expecting your call for some time now."

* * *

With tied hands and a swollen cheek, I regained consciousness slowly while the coppery taste of blood gurgled in the socket beneath my tongue. Footsteps echoed through the filter of space and the emptiness told me stories of their distance. The rope was thick around my wrists and and I squiggled fruitlessly, only to realize that my feet were tied also.

"He's awake," said a baritone voice, pacing nearer to me. "He's been out hours."

"Step back," said a more familiar voice. "We wouldn't want our guest to feel claustrophobic."

Cold fingers dented my cheeks and I grunted. My eyes flickered open but everything was blurry, only hazy figures stood before me. One of them had black hair, I could see that much, but the other was too distant to tell. My neck could barely hold my head up and it dropped. Aro caught me under my chin with a finger and made me look at him as my vision collected itself. "Welcome back," he sniggered with somber eyes, reminding me of what happened.

The plan was so simple.

Rash, yes. But also simple. Driving thirty minutes to where he directed me to meet him, I was face to face with the gang leader. His swampy eyes brought it all out; the despair and the anger, and I lunged at him, at his throat, with my hands curled forward. But I was tackled to the ground by foreign forces and I smashed into the floor, falling into blackness.

Then I was here, standing with my hands tied to a hook above me and my ankles tied to a ledge below me. Even now, all that rammed through my mind was the distaste at how I'd failed to wring the leader's neck. My lip raised and I projected a lump of spit at the loan-shark and it landed on his coat. A blade was drawn across my forearm and I bit my lip with my top teeth, refusing to give in.

"I used to think Edward was stubborn," cooed the gang-leader, "until you came around. My, my!"

"Shut _up_," I coughed, realizing that blood trickled out as I curved forward. Aro tried to tilt my head upwards again but I shoved away and he signaled to a crony from behind with an ominous nod. A fist introduced itself to my stomach and I heaved forward like a breathless donkey and slumped, my head completely descended.

"When will you learn to cooperate?" asked Aro, through a chuckle. "This can go on all day!"

I knew I probably couldn't take another blow but I salvaged the last of what was in me to raise my head and eye Aro sincerely, even though it felt like weights were pushing against my upper-spine. I didn't know how long I was like this and the position I was in would surely lead to an eventual death; first my circulation would become drowsy and my limbs would go numb. Then my organs, notably my brain, would be deprived of oxygen and I'd pass out in anticipation for my heart to soon fail: This was a death I saw recently. This was also how Julian died.

"W-why?" I drawled out, as blood dripped from my bottom-lip. "Why him? Why a little boy?"

But Aro half-grinned and shot a knowing look to his worker before turning back to me. "What little boy?" he asked, his inflection rising. I growled and tried to force myself at him, but the ropes around my ankles and wrists tugged my backwards. "How dare you disrespect him!" I called. "Go to.." I croaked with agony as I felt my rib crack from the motion combined with the earlier blow to the stomach. ".. _Hell_!"

"Hell?" Aro asked, nearing me again. "You think that is elsewhere? Jasper, you're _in_ hell. You know it too well, especially after you killed that poor, defenseless child."

"I- what?"

"Right after you told the nurses you were his uncle. Right after you entertained the boy with a puzzle. Right after you quietly replaced his IV bag with a potent solution of Morphine while he was occupied. Right after you felt his life slip out of your hands, knowing you could do nothing about it. Right after you chose Edward's life over his. And right after you ruined your own by not listening to me in the first place. So do not tell _me_ to go to hell, Jasper Whitlock, because it is a residence of which we _both_ dwell."

"I never did those things," I groused. "You did them."

"Did I?" He turned to his crony and snarled sarcastically. "He says I did them! Jasper, it doesn't matter who specifically carried out those actions. What's important is that _your_ actions led to them. Your foolish notions, mistakes and physical attraction to Edward Cullen, to be accurate, led to them. You are nothing more than a child whose puppy was taken to the pound. I gave you an option that would've spared that poor boy's life, but you didn't choose it and so that boy became.. collateral."

"Collateral?" I gasped. "You killed him to punish me for not taking your offer? Do you remember what you asked me? You asked me to _kill_ Edward."

"I know what I asked you. And it was very straight-forward. But you refused on the basis of some childish infatuation. Or as you called it, 'love!' Such follies!"

"And because I'm not a murderer!"

"Oh but you _are_!" he cackled. "You were a murderer the moment Edward lied to me and put my leadership in jeopardy. You and I are two sides of the same coin, you see. You made a choice and I carried it out for you. Is the assassin any more the killer than the man who employed him? Either way, we are both responsible. Not just me. _Both_."

"You speak such bullshit," I drew out slowly. "I didn't know that not killing Edward meant losing Julian to your scum."

"So you thought there would be no consequence to your lack of cooperation?"

"Of course I knew!" I said, shaking my head drearily, desperately. "But _I_ should've taken the hit. Not Julian, not a child. _Me_."

"But you have!" cheered the leader. "You're here now, aren't you? Is this not 'taking the hit?'"

"Then why include him?" I cried. "If you planned on killing me anyway then _why_ bring Julian into this?"

Aro neared me with a malicious grin spread across his face and his reptilian lips came to my ear and he breathed into it for a moment before speaking. "Why _not_ include him?" he whispered. "I for one enjoy how it changed you."

"_Fuck you_," I coughed. "I'll kill you."

"You will?" he gasped dramatically. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

I struggled against the robes and snapped my jaw at the loan-shark, fighting with every fiber to tear him for what he did to Julian, to Edward and to everything I knew and cherished. "I'll break you!"

"Enough!" Aro called, marching away from me with his hands in the air. "I won't listen to your dog-minded insults any longer. What it boils down to is that you declined my offer. You have paid with the loss of that boy and now Edward will pay with the loss of you." He stomped to a door a few feet from me and I only then realized that I was in a warehouse. The leader's black trench-coat looked spookily familiar and it struck me that it was Edward's, the one I wore when I left the apartment. Before I could even react, light came bursting into the grey of the empty room and I was blinded. I turned away from the light until the door was shut from behind and a murder of shadows moved towards me.

"These are my men," declared Aro from behind the crowd. Men in black coats and hats stood before me with pale, lifeless smiles etched across their faces and I drew my pupils across each of them; the last faces I would ever see. Many shared facial scars and gashes in common and they flashed knuckle braces and other items of intimidation to foretell what was to come.

But then one face was different.

In the front line was a man whose face wasn't littered with slits and flecks of purple fleshy scars. He was stubbly but otherwise quite refined looking. His eyes were shockingly blue and I gazed into them with fascination, clinging to something to remind me that I was human, for that aspect of myself had been torn away. I searched him to assure myself that there was some good left in the world and that maybe he would stop this procedure and call it off, that he'd realize that I too was a person with memories, ideas, experiences and emotions, just like he was. But then as I readjusted my focus, those striking blue eyes were much larger than I remembered and they wobbled at me with raw, fearful disbelief.

I knew those arms. I knew that stubble. And that face, the ocean-blue eyes.

"Jasper?" gasped Emmett, dropping his knuckle bracers to the floor before a graveyard silence gasped through the emptiness of the room.


	22. The Value Of Growth

This is the end! It's been a great run. Please check out the Author's note where I say a few things. A **huge** thank you to everyone for your support, enthusiasm, reviews, love, everything. I'm so grateful to have had such a great group of followers. Love you all!

* * *

"Dress nicely Jasper," she said, shuffling through the professionally dry-cleaned shirts and jeans that were deposited pristinely in my wardrobe. "Your father's parents are coming."

"But I barely know them!" I argued, falling against my bed-frame in obdurate protest and with folded arms, my spirits further decaying when an ill-desired outfit was decided without my consent. "They're nothing to me."

My mother sighed thoughtfully and placed the shirt and jeans on the foot of my bed, towering over me as aloof as steel. "It's true your father's family is very... distant. Most of them don't speak to each other so this is the first time they've visited since you can remember. But we need to make a good impression."

"Why?" I drawled exasperatingly, shaking my 11-year old head of messy curls. My mother, who was not known for her patience or overly maternal qualities especially at this stage of my life, beckoned me to my feet and brushed off my t-shirt. Displeased with the absence of a response, I folded my arms juvenilely and puffed. "Why do we have to go to so much work for people we don't know?"

"Because they're family," my mother said, with stark conviction that oppressed my urge to protest. "And in life, you need to surround yourself with family because one day they could be all you have."

"I've got friends," I grumbled, rolling my eyes. "I don't need these new people."

"Friends are also important," said my mother. "Just don't be quick to seal yourself off from the world, especially family, or else you'll find that you'll no longer relate to anyone around you. It's healthy to let people save you from yourself." I figured she had just recited some passage from an artsy or indie magazine or from some other esoteric source that I could not possibly care to comprehend. I shrugged and asked her to leave so that I could change into this supposedly trendy outfit.

I never did speak to my father's parents after they left.

* * *

"Leh me buy you a drink," said Sofia, the moment after our first surgery on Bella Swan which was an acute appendicitis.

For such a simple question, it worried me immensely. So much shot through my mind then: Could I trust her? Could I see myself leaving my comfort zone? Where did she want to bring me? Did she know I wasn't into _her kind_? Did I really want to _reach out_ to her as I'd been schooled to do in theory, but not in practicality? Also, did I want to chance socializing with an intern, someone who Attendings rarely associated themselves with? Why did I care so much about what people thought of me?

I respectfully declined.

Sofia was displeased with my response and looked at me with suave eyes of playfulness. Somehow, it shot down all my apprehensions. "Oh no, no, Meestar Wheetlock, don't worry about all those other interns. I don't drink with them. They annoy me. Nothing more than cheeldren they are."

An intern who turned on her own kind? That interested me. In fact, it interested me enough to overwrite my concerns. Something about her was trustworthy, a stoic spirit. Maybe it was up to me to give her a shot? Maybe it was time that I introduce a new person into my family of Ptero, Emmett and Bierce Fitch. After all, I didn't want to seal myself off from the world - wholly, at least.

"You know what? I will. Thanks."

I knew I was in for an eventful night.

* * *

"Ptero, stop that!" I warned, as the bird flapped and squawked away from my shoulder and deposited feathers upon the clothes of other people on the street. "You'll get me arrested!" I pulled his chain towards me but provoked a louder caw from the parrot who began to stick out his pink tongue to exaggerate the force of my pull. Old ladies looked at me like a baby killer and I glared at him with that look that said, _'wait until we get home and you're getting an almighty whopping.' _I tried smiling at my critics but they huffed snobbishly at me, disgusted that I would grin when my parrot was in such obvious 'distress.' The truth was that we - Ptero and I - both knew that he was acting like this because of the crows overhead. My Ptero was quite the ladies man. Or rapist. Or whatever.

As the old ladies just about began to halt in their scowling, my bird broke from his leash and took off into the air, leaving me behind on the pavement, mouth agape. Aghast, I yelped out to the parrot but my cries fell upon deaf ears. Ptero had no interest in my human follies. He wanted to mate, and there was nothing I could do to stop him. People on the street were squinting up at the feathery mess that flapped as elegantly as a hamburger up to the telephone wires that hung over our heads - the home of the female crows.

"Ptero!" I shouted, looking around for someone to help me. "He broke his lead! Help!"

"Why is he even out in public?" asked one man. "Is that a parrot?" questioned a little girl. "How did it get up there?" wondered a lady on a bench. "Why people bring birds out in public is beyond me!" complained one of the old ladies.

"Hey, man," said an unprecedented and unforeseen voice behind my ear. "Is that your bird?"

Turning around, my eyes met a handsome man. He was built, very built, and had icy blue eyes, almost like those of a husky. Flustered and panicked, I shook myself. Was answering his question really going to get my bird back? "Yes!" I blurted, waving my hands like he was stupid. I turned around to view Ptero doing some perverted mating dance with a disinterested crow and winced in horror. A hand fell upon my shoulder and I was whisked around, looking back into the glassy eyes of the man who'd just asked me the futile question.

"Ugh, dude. Your bird took a shit on my head."

Wait. What?

"He did what?" I asked.

"You heard me!" groused the man. "I was standing below him when _bam_, shit on my head! I was on my way to a club! What do you expect me to do _now_!?" I suddenly smirked, then chuckled, and then chortled until before I knew it I was almost on the floor crying with laughter. The white bird dropping was oozing straight from the man's crown and the sight made me howl uncontrollably. "It's not funny!" he moaned.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I cackled before breaking into another explosion of chuckles. "No, no. Really I'm sorry. That's awful. He shouldn't have done that." I briefly cocked my head to look at the wires and saw that Ptero was still busy with the ladies. An idea then injected into me and my eyes lit up with hope and necessity. "Hey. How about you try calling my bird for me and if he comes, I'll personally help you get that stain out of your head." I snorted at that last bit and figured that my lack of composure would provoke a fist in my face. But much to my surprise, the man agreed and he disappeared to the base of the telephone pole and began calling my bird. "What's his name?" he shouted over to me.

"Pterodactyl!" I shouted back. .

"What?"

"Ptero!" I said. "Tayr-oh."

"Right."

I heard my parrot's name called a dozen times. The man's attempts seemed more or less fruitless, but when the shadow of a disheveled tropical bird came soaring towards me beneath the sunlight, I smiled with glee. "Ptero!" I blared. "Come heeeere!" I watched then in horror and mirth as a dropping fell right from the parrot's behind and planted itself square upon the apex of the man's head, once again, adding an extra pile to the existing bird dropping that was already splattered there.

"Fuck's sake!" groused the man. "Seriously!? You need to tame that thing!" He stomped towards me with bullish indignation and I considered disappearing into the crowd. But then I reconsidered. If worst came to worst, I would play the _surgeon card_. I could get out of very, very sticky situations by explaining to people that I was of the medical persuasion. One subtle hint that I could personally be your or someone-you-knew's surgeon some-day was enough to deter even the most violent of crimes from arriving at my doorstep. But much to my delight, the man didn't punch me, or at least even attempt to. He just grumbled, "you're gonna clean this off my head." He seemed like a pretty cool push-over and I discerned that he was safe to bring back to my place where I could clean his hair of bird taint.

"My name's Jasper," I said, extending a hand while trying not to snigger. "Pleased to meet you."

"Emmett," said the man. "You better not live far from here."

If only I knew that this Emmett would go on to be my best-friend, neighbor, pet-minder and many more. It was true: Beginnings really could happen at any stage of life. Even near the end.

* * *

"Getting a tequila too?" asked a deep broody voice to my right. Even though my memory was hazy, I often dreamt and relived this moment through my dreams in different forms and varieties. This was the moment when I met Edward. Perhaps it was my inebriation that made the event so vivid and intense but something in the trenches of my chest said otherwise. There was a spark in that moment that transcended the effects of the alcohol, a spark that had chronic and profound impacts on me.

The moment I laid eyes on Edward, something within me changed, an inner alchemy. My senses heightened and my vision burst with colors and joy. It was a reaction that I could've attributed to alcohol, but to do that so liberally would've been a lie. The truth was, the alcohol only gave me a boost of confidence to speak to Edward in the first place. The chemicals behind my giddy face spoke of greater volumes. I knew, at the first glance, the first sight, that I had to near this man. I had to be closer with Edward.

Could you relate? Did you ever see someone you didn't know and think of them as perfect, faultless and everything you weren't? Did you ever think that others were cleansed of flaws and that you were alone in yours? Somehow Edward was the cure to all my problems and I needed him like oxygen. I didn't know that these feelings, this need to be close to him, were all seeds of the love I would eventually come to recognize. Even though I could never admit it, I was in-love with Edward from day one. And _that_ was the truth. That much was clear.

"I'm Jasper," I said, extending a hand. "Pleased to meet you."

"Edward," he said. "Likewise."

Heh. Edward. I liked that name.

* * *

"He's passed out again," said a disgruntled voice. "And only after one punch. What a pussy."

Blinking, colorful dots of yellow and red flickered in my vision. A pang of sadness ebbed through me when the realization ensconced itself; I was here. I was in this warehouse, a prisoner. I could've touched Edward's face in my dreams, feel the firmness of the gravel below me when meeting Emmett, and smell the spiciness of Sofia's perfume in the wash-room after Bella Swan's surgery. But yet I was here. I was always here and the tangible, yet deceptive reality of those memories flitted away and left me in the true reality.

It was apparent that I'd only been out for less than a minute. "Emmett?" gasped Aro. "You _know_ this man?"

It came back to me. Emmett was here, in this warehouse, not just in my memories. But now I wondered if I'd ever woken up at all. Maybe I was dead? How could he be here? How could _my_ Emmett be here? I couldn't keep my head raised, not after that last impact. There was only so much the human muscles could take before they defaulted their duties to the bones.

"I-I, Jasper!" squealed a familiar voice, one that confirmed that this was in-fact Emmett, a bitter sweet feeling. My head was then propped up on wholesome shoulders and my bloody lip found a fabric to deposit its liquid. Strong arms pulled me from the ropes and I was as free as I could be, for someone in this place. "Someone explain what's going on! Why is Jasper here?"

Aro's footsteps could be heard echoing slowly through the quietness, the only other sound marked by the guttural drain pipes that gurgled over head. There was a curious and ominous hum before the crowd of men, which soon transmuted into a somber chuckle. The temperature dropped. "Well, well. This is glorious!" cooed Aro, pacing around the frontier of his men. "One of my operatives and one of my clients _know_ each other."

"How the..? Why is he here? Why are you doing this to him?"

"Why am I doing this to him? Why is he doing this to _himself_? But let's not ask the wrong questions here, dearest Emmett, I'm curious as to how _you_ know my client." A long line of thoughts rushed through my head and I wondered would Emmett lie and leave me here? Or would he tell the truth much to the detriment of himself?

"We're neighbors.. best friends. Jasper's my best friend." I could feel Emmett's heartbeat thumping in my ear and I wished I could do something. My eyes made a beeline for the gaps beneath the warehouse doors where the moonlight came pouring in apologetically, granting a soft comfort amidst this chaos. As if on an orbital axis, my head fell from Emmett's lap and gazed thoughtlessly at the light of the pale moon. It was so beautiful, so peaceful.

Aro explained to Emmett why I was here, the unfortunate chain of events with the occasional exaggerated fact or out-right fictional input. Emmett asked how he'd never seen nor heard of Edward or I within the walls of the organization and Aro said that it was just chance, but assured him that had he known, he would've used Emmett to spy on us from next door. "I wish I'd found out sooner," said the leader. "What better way to become a fly-on-the-wall?"

"Jasper," Emmett whispered, his thumb gliding across my forehead. "Stay with me. I'm going to get you out of here."

"You are?" chuckled Aro, his spiky teeth exposed. "And what about _your_ debt, Emmett? What about the money I lent you four years ago? You haven't quite worked it off yet."

"It's paid," groused my neighbor. "I've worked for you ever since then, my name's clear. And so is Jasper's." Emmett tried to bring me to my feet but failed, I couldn't even feel them, never-mind stand on them. He willed me to gather myself. I tried, I really did, but I didn't have the strength. I couldn't do it.

"Get out of here, Em," I coughed, smiling blearily with wide, disconnected pupils. "I'm okay here."

"Fuck," Emmett grumbled under his breath. "How hard did they hit you? Come on, stay with me."

"Look what happens," Aro announced, turning to his men with spread arms, "when someone breaks the rules. Jasper refused to cooperate with me and look at him now. Bare witness all of you, to what has taken place and what will take place today." Aro turned around and glared down at us both. "Emmett, step away from my client."

"Why? What're you going to do to him?" Emmett wrapped me in his arms, his grip tight. "I'm not letting him go."

Aro smiled but I could tell it wasn't genuine. It could read through his poker-faces with ease. I was well versed with them. "You don't wish to cooperate, either?" he asked. "Suit yourself."

A nod was sent to the line of men and Aro stepped to the side so that it was just us and them, face to face. Whatever way they shifted made their legs block the moonlight and I had no choice but to peer up and observe their pale, lifeless faces. What did it mean to them, to be nameless? What did it mean to them to end two lives and place their heads upon feathered pillows, never to forget our faces? What did it mean to them to look up at the stars and predict, guess, that our eyes were looking back at them, pitifully, judgmentally. Was it worth it? Was it worth ending Emmett and I only to walk an endless path of grief and despair? The men withdrew weapons; pipes, crowbars and knife edges advanced on us and Emmett pulled me behind him and withdrew a weapon of his own.

It was pointless fighting.

Hadn't we seen enough death? To what extent would we - would these people - go to get what they wanted? Whether it meant Aro maintaining his power and leadership or these men paying off their respective debts, neither would come to a fulfilling end. So it was sad and sorrowed welled within me. Even though I was the one on the floor, bloody and pathetic. Before I had a moment to think any further, the coppery scent of a crowbar came sweeping at my nose and I was flicked backwards with a crunch, hearing Emmett wail out with horror.

A circle of Aro's men encompassed us like a horrible atlas. Emmett towered over me and thought to protect me from all fronts. But when another crowbar came crashing into my face, he leapt in the direction of the owner and was lost in a sea of attackers who pursued him. The thought that we were both going through the same insanity - Aro, debt, this organization - made me want to jump back in time and stop this all. And as I watched knife, bar and bat crash into Emmett, I crawled and drew myself upon him, to spare him any more pain.

"Who's that?" asked one of the men, straightening up after beating Emmett and I. The warehouse doors came swinging open and the moonlight was everywhere. I gurgled with a bloody smile and dilated eyes. The light soothed the pain. It was so beautiful, so magic. "Do you see that, Em? Look at all the light." There was no movement beneath me. Had he beat me to it? I lowered my head onto his chest and closed my eyes. Warm, light, peace. So peaceful. The pain dripped away.

"Drop the weapons. Put your hands up," roared an array of new voices, followed by a stampede of boots. There was a great commotion around me and I heard bodies rake against more bodies and metal clink viciously against steel. There was shouting, ordering and demanding and I, in the eye of the storm, remained still upon Emmett, my consciousness escaping me. I heard clunks and clicks of metal once again, and many screams. "Let me go," "I'll kill you," "Get out of here!"

"I should've killed you when I had the chance!" screamed Aro at someone, before a violent shuffle ensued and screaming imbued the vastness of the warehouse.

Then, I heard the Miranda Rights.

Again.

And again.

Soon, the words were all around me, just as Aro's men had been. I forced my head up despite the pain but all was blurry. Mere shadows happened upon me and I foretold the return of Aro's tyranny. I fell back onto Emmett's chest but was flicked around by frantic hands which moved to my cheeks and gently slapped them. "Jasper!" I heard, "wake up. What did they do to you?"

I was subsequently rolled off of Emmett and onto the cold floor. The moon was shining like a spotlight right over my face and it drugged me, asking that I stay and basque in its glory. Then it was blocked by a shadowy face; an angular jaw, rich, emerald eyes and stubble.. it was so familiar, but I couldn't hold on. The thought of sleep cajoled me into near unconsciousness. "Jasper," I heard again. "You're safe, you're with me."

I was lifted into someone's arms and was carried away from Emmett. In my mind, I wanted to call out and ask where I was going and if my friend would be okay but now all I could do was ebb away into an irritated slumber and wave goodbye to the pain all over my body and the incessant taste of blood in my mouth. "I'm so sorry, Jasper. I'm so sorry. Alice told me everything."

"Where am I going?" I slurred, before my eyelids interned me.

I could smell engine fumes and they were as attractive as the moonlight. There was a change in the atmosphere around me; where was the fear? Where was the grief, the crackling of metal against bone? Even though questions shot though me from all directions, a bereaved heaviness draped across my thoughts and with the faces of Edward, Emmett, Julian, Sofia and even my mother on my mind, I fell into the nothing, the moonlight, the clarity, the unknown. Then I finally stopped thinking. Finally.

* * *

Waking up in a room that looked like a cross between a hospital ward and a child day-care was enough to make any person panic with fears of isolation. Coming from gravel and blood to softness and cushion made me double take on my sanity. I flinched and gasped inwards when trying to move, as every nerve in my body shoved me back onto the mattress. There was pressure on my nose and around my head and ribs. Looking down, I saw bandages taped around different part of my body, giving me the air of a mummy. I panicked and glanced around frantically.

There was a small, box-like television suspended on a platform in the corner. The curtains were pale-blue and the floor was ornamented with swirls, upon milky brown wood.

My mother was right; she really couldn't prepare me for the next corners in life. If she could've, then perhaps I wouldn't have been so disorientated with my surroundings. To be thrown from one extreme from the other in such a short period of time held me on the edge of anticipation, fear. And yet despite this vulnerability, I sought Edward. I just wanted Edward, for safety, comfort.

As my eyes glanced around this room, I then remembered Julian. His wide eyes and button nose. Loss was a very strange thing; on one hand it made you feel misplaced, solitary, like no matter what busy street you stood on, you were still alone, empty. And yet, it also made you want to gather up everyone you knew and cared about into one room so that you could assure yourself that no-one else would leave you, so that their existence was in your control. Loss was isolating, but also uniting.

I took a breath and pressed the pain away, eventually balancing on my elbows to get a better look at my surroundings. I was about to chance getting to my feet and paging a nurse for an explanation but when I heard a slight snore, I jolted to my left. There, asleep halfway on a chair and the foot of the bed, was Edward, my dearest Edward. And his facial hair was notably scruffier and disheveled. I welled up and hunched forward, only to be humbled by my casts and bandages.

"Edward," I croaked, trying to swipe the top of his head with my fingertips but he continued to snore. I reached behind and slowly wiggled a pillow out from under me and threw it at him. He leapt up with a screech and looked around with sacked eyes. When his eyes fell on mine, he stopped and stared for a moment and blinked a few times, his mouth slowly widening.

"J- Jasper?" he drew out in disbelief. "You're.. awake?"

"I think so?" I said, feeling the apex of my head. "Where am I?"

"At the hospital. You're awake?"

"Yeah, I'm awake."

"You're awake," Edward said slowly, saying those words to himself, rather than to me. "You're awake."

"Edward, what happen-"

Suddenly, I was knocked back onto the pillows with a yelp. Pain surged through my bones. When I gathered myself, I realized that Edward's arms were wrapped around my neck and his lips were embedded into my pulse. "Thank god you're awake, Jasper. I thought you'd never stop sleeping." Edward's heat was intense. I'd never seen him cry before until tonight. I felt my neck saturate with salted water as he weeped into me. "I can't believe you're awake," he kept saying. "I can't believe you're here."

"I was always here," I said. Little did he know that those words were repetition; I had said them the night I left for Aro's compound to Edward as he slept. I rubbed my temples as a headache began to pulse like a siren.

"We weren't sure what was gonna happen," he moaned. "None of the doctors could say when you'd wake up."

"Did you push any of them against walls?" I asked weakly, but with a playful smile.

I wanted to make him smile since I'd put him through hell and back and I guess reverting to levity was insensitive of me. His red, dented eyes were like slow knives into my conscience and those wild emerald irises and the way they watched me like I would shatter at any moment intensified the air. A silence cleaved to us both and, when I realized that my groggy attempt at humor was executed at the worst possible time, I crept my hands upon Edward's to comfort him but he didn't smile. He seemed torn between relief, shock and sadness. I could tell he wanted me to finally tell him everything, and I was about to until he moved away and said, "I better let the nurses know you woke up." He began to leave the room and I called to him.

"Edward, stay here. I-I want to see you." I tried to wobble to my feet and ended up rolling onto the floor with a pathetic yelp. I was barely on it for a nano-second before Edward had me suspended in his arms, panting. "Why do you do this to yourself?" he asked, escorting me back to bed. "Why can't you just be simple?" He pulled the comforter up to my neck, despite my grimaces.

"Stay and talk to me," I said. "Please."

Edward coalesced with a defeated sigh and sat beside me aloofly, his hands braided on his lap. "You wanna talk?" he asked. "Alright, let's talk."

"I'm sorry."

"I knew you'd say that."

"Because it's true."

"I better find the nurses." Edward got up, once again, but I halted him by snatching his wrist and holding it close. I remembered back to when he was overwhelmed by the exchanges between Julian and I, and how he never expected to see a paternal side to me. I'd made him so happy then, unintentionally, and in contrast to now I would've done anything to relive that. Now I'd hurt him, lied to him, kept him in the dark and all the while he trusted me, loved me. And I knew this would happen when it all came out but now that the reality was playing out right before me, no amount of preparation could've hardened me for it, for hurting Edward as I did.

"Sit," I said, signaling my boyfriend to the end of the bed. "And stay." With a deep breath, Edward sat and watched me, his eyes no lighter nor less despaired. "I had to find Aro, Edward. He.. he caused Julian's.. I-I just had to find him. I know you would've wanted me to tell you but I _know_ you. I know you'd go in there ahead of me and get yourself killed. Aro asked me to do something for him, something awful. And I refused and, and -"

I was suddenly shushed by a pensive Edward. Startled at first, I went to continue until I was silenced again and I mumbled. "I thought you wanted answers?" I complained, pulling the comforter down. Edward drew his head from left to right.

"I already know all this," he said, adding nothing more.

A pin could've dropped. "You already.. know?" I stuttered.

"How do you think I found you?" Edward asked indignantly. "Alice Hart, Julian's mom, came knocking on my door looking for you to explain 'the truth'' to her husband who didn't believe her. I thought it was some kind of joke until she said Aro's name and I realized something was going on."

"Alice?" I croaked. "Oh god, Edward."

"She told me that 'a man named Aro' was responsible for her son's death and that you told her you planned to 'make things right.' I knew the way straight to Aro and his guys' warehouse and we found you there. Jasper, what were you thinking? I-I could've lost you. I could've lost you to those scumbags and d'you think I could've lived with that? D'you think I could wake up tomorrow morning without your stupid face next to me? I love you, Jasper. More than anything. I'm so relieved you're okay but I'm so fucking angry and confused because I hate that you kept me in the dark all this time."

"I know you hate me, Edward and I'd hate me too if I were you, but I didn't tell you anything because I know you would've gotten yourself killed up against Aro."

Edward's face pinched and he forced himself closer to me. "And you did much better? Look at you, Jasp! You've broken two ribs and your nose, bruised your skull, tore dozens of tendons.. You could be dead right now. I could've been there for you but instead _Alice Hart_ had to explain it all to me. Why didn't you trust me? Why didn't you just talk to me?" He turned away from me passionately and breathed heavily, gathering himself and returning to avert my gaze.

The bandages on my body felt very, very real and they stood to qualify Edward's worries. "After what happened with Julian, Edward.. I'm sorry." Watching Edward, who was still coming to terms with what'd happened, forced me to relive the terrors somewhat and I closed my eyes, pressing the memories away. "I was scared you'd do something stupid."

"Stupid?" Edward hissed. "You mean more stupid than going alone to Aro's compound and threatening him? Do you even get it? You could've _died_, Jasper. Was that really worth not telling me?"

I stayed silent.

"Thing is, Jasp. Yeah I probably would've gone to kick Aro's ass if you told me what he was doing to you. But instead you kept me in the dark so that you wouldn't have to lose me. You ran from me when you should've been straight up. And fuck, I'm so happy you're awake but I'm so pissed, I can't even breathe. I'm just.. God dammit."

"I'm sorry, Edward," I drew out, whole-heartedly ashamed.

"And you're lucky Emmett was wrapped up in this mess because he saved your life."

I stopped short of another apology and lifted my gaze up to Edward slowly. "Emmett?" I drawled. "Where is he? Is he ok?"

Edward grimaced and breathed deeply. "It was rough for a while back but he woke up way before you. He's able to hobble around but not for long. He's in the next room. The guy's been asking nonstop about you."

I sighed with relief at hearing Emmett was okay, but my relief was only half-hearted. "And Aro?" I asked, a thick condensation forming in my gut.

Edward cocked his head. "I guess this is new news to you. Aro and all his men are in custody being charged with tons of crimes. I called the police after Julian's mother explained everything to me and they managed to bang up every single one of those bastards. It's rare the entire group gathers in one place because of police busts but I guess we got lucky, finally. Emmett and I both gave testimonies. They'll want yours too. Once you're better, I guess we can.." He took a breath and hunched his shoulders and I shook with emotions of an unfamiliar persuasion. ".. I dunno."

"Can what?" I blew out, flustered.

"Start new? Leave Seattle? Go to our house in the south? If that's what you want Jasper. I mean, you could go and get away from this all, from me, from Emmett, from this hospital. While I was sitting here, I had a lot of time to think 'bout stuff. I wrote a bit, watched you for signs of life and remembered everything I knew about you until it hit me. Me and you are similar: I didn't want to have new people in my life because, well. Fuck, because I was scared. I didn't want to mess things up with people so I just didn't commit myself to relationships with them. But then I met you and I sorta got over it, slowly. But with you, Jasp, you never got over it. You were always scared to bring new people into your life and that's why you care so much about what people think, incase they judge you and, or, leave you. And when they do - if they do - you run away from everyone else and stop thinking clearly. That's why you ran away from me, from Emmett, from Sofia, from everyone after Julian died, wasn't it? All I want, Jasp, is for you to be happy. I hate saying this soppy shit, but that's the truth. So if you want to get away from us all, from everything we started, then go right ahead if that's what's right for you. I won't stop you. If it means you're happy, that's what matters to me. Even if I fucking hate it." He drew his forearm across his eyes and sighed deeply, mournfully, with despairing remorse. I quivered in my sheets and felt my insides crackle like glass. He must've been thinking about things for awhile, about what made me happy and this was the conclusion he came to. He was willing to let me go if it meant my happiness, if it meant I could do what was natural to me: Run away. Welling up like an expanding balloon, I crunched the fabrics between my knuckles.

Was there ever a moment in your life when you realized that you changed? When you realized that those around you were making assumptions based on the person you were before you made that change? Sometimes only _we_ could see the new skin around which we defined ourselves; only when our actions and words reflected the change would others see it. Edward was right; I _did_ fear bringing new people into my life lest they judged me, hurt me, or made me trip over my rock-bottom confidence. I _did_ isolate myself when left behind by someone by way of rejection or death. That was why, for the longest time, my "family" consisted of a cat and a bird. But what Edward was yet to see was that I too had changed, just like him. It may have taken me longer, but we came to the same end, but by a different means, and by a different frequency. You see, as I closed my eyes that night at Aro's compound and sold my consciousness to the darkness, I passed out with the faces of those I came to love engraved in my head. I did not remember my "prestigious" job. I did not remember the countless "lazy days" or nights in front of the television. I simply descended, contently, into blackness while comforted by the spicy scent of Sofia, the amusing, wry face of Emmett, the creative and playful smile of my mother and, of course, the countenance of the man I adored more than anything: Edward. When it came down to the defining moment, it was _people_ who I remembered in my final moment. It was _people_ who I needed to begin accepting into my life and trusting, not running from.

I sat forward and crawled weakly over to Edward - much to his chagrin - and crunched the front of his shirt into my fist. I pulled him in and kissed him, but his lips didn't wrap around mine. They were loose and he was confused. I leaned back and dipped my head, apologetically and humbly. No more secrets. "You're right, Edward. I never would've admitted this until today but everything you said about me is right. I never wanted to have friends or family incase I screwed up and had to reflect on myself. I wanted to stay ignorant to happiness because it wasn't worth the risk of rejection. And I may as-well have ran away from you after Julian.. you know. But you're wrong about one thing. Now when I think about my life before having Emmett, Sofia, Julian, you.. it just seems so dull. The thing is, every time I accepted someone new into my life, I saw color again, tasted food for the first time, and stopped to look at the clear sky. I'm not like the way you think I am, or at least, not anymore. I was wrong to be so shut out from people, Edward. I should've seen how being more open changed you for the better, because you were the living proof that was right under my nose. But I've always been a bit of an idiot to obvious stuff, right?" I smiled and moisturized my lips with my tongue and smiled wryly, but remained firm. "My life got so much happier after I brought you guys into it. All of you changed my life in some way for the better. Sure, we had our rows, but as a whole you made it worth it. All of you. So no, I'm not leaving anymore. I'm not running. Not from Seattle, not for something new, not for the south and most importantly, not from you. You're stuck with me, Edward, whether you like it or not. Because I want to stay _with_ the people I love. Because that's what's truly important. What am I without you? Without any of you?"

I ghosted forward softly and dipped my lips into Edward and this time he kissed me back. His palm came to rest on the side of my face and it stayed there for a second, for a moment, for an eternity. "I love you, Edward," I said, when his lips broke from mine. "I've loved you since I saw you." My heart throbbed in my chest and my diaphragm twiddled like petals in the wind. Kissing this man was like something I couldn't put words to; the only comparison was seeing The Little Mermaid in Copenhagen for the first time. When you see, or even touch, something that has stood through wars, storms and seas, you feel connected to something, connected to the past and everything the monument has seen. Edward had been through these wars, storms and seas with me and so I identified with him as he understood me, walked the paths of absolute despair with me, even when he didn't know he was doing so. My hands inevitably found their way to Edward's pecs. They always did. Leaning our foreheads against each other's, Edward pecked me softly and hugged me with warm, longing arms. "Thank you," he whispered, breathing heavily.

"Sorry to interrupt," said Emmett, limping suddenly into the room after clearing his throat. "I heard your voice outside, J and thought I'd come in. Glad to see you on your feet."

Looking from behind Edward's shoulder, I grinned. Emmett too was part of the greater picture. "Em!" I said. "You're okay."

"I wouldn't go that far," Edward said, signaling to our neighbor's crutches. "He's still crippled."

I beckoned Emmett over and he nodded graciously and hobbled to a chair opposite the side of the bed. "Jasper.. about that night.." he started, making no pleasantries.

"It's okay, Em." I nodded from side to side and sent him a faint assuring smile. Emmett struggled in the chair and I noticed that his chest was inflated and he was irritated and wanted to explain something to me. Conceding, I leaned back and glanced at Edward. He too seemed to want Emmett to speak and so feeling overruled, I cleared my lungs and relaxed into the pillows. "I can tell you wanna speak."

"I promise, J, I had no idea you were involved with that lunatic. If I knew, I would've helped. I just had no reason to think you'd know anything about him. A few years back, I was struggling big time with cash. I met one of Aro's guys at a bar and he set me up with some funds to keep me going. All he said was I had to work for his boss for a bit and before I knew it, I was worse off than I was before and had that freak controlling everything I did. I managed to get out of doing a lot of the dirty work but even so.. man, there was never a way out with him. Not until Edward came with a wad of police and banged up their sorry asses in one." I went to stop him and assure him that he didn't need to explain anything to me, that his actions had spoken volumes to me, but he went on anyway. "Why didn't you say anything to me, man? I could've done something, greased a few elbows or called in a few favors. If only I knew.."

"Same reason I didn't speak to any of you" I stated, glancing at Edward. "I was running away."

We spoke for another hour and Edward remained mostly quiet throughout the conversation. Emmett expressed sorrows, regrets, reliefs and apprehensions and he surprised me with his insights. I wondered how much of him was suppressed by the ever-looming Aro who watched our every move. I wondered what freedom would do to my dear Emmett now that the sword of Damocles had vanished behind identical bars of aloof steel. I wondered how much more open we would be with each other. I did a lot of wondering, but one thing that was obdurately definitive in my eyes was that I would strive to keep Emmett in my life forever.

"Yaaaasperr!" cheered a voice from around the corner, causing three heads to jolt sideways. Sofia, with her boobs more or less hanging out of her dress, came waltzing into the room with a bottle of tequila in one hand and a lemon in the other. "Nurse gossip tells me you're awaaaake! Aiaiai! When can you walk and come dreeenking?" Edward slapped his face and Emmett seized up before snorting out with laughter as the Spanish stallion advanced on me and raked her fingers through my hair. "These bandages do nathing for your looks! Why don't choo take them off?"

"Because he's healing," said Edward, slowly, aware that she'd been in Spain for a while.

"Ai! I'm not stoooopid, Edward! I'm a doctor, you know, yes? Yasper, let's get you out of here and go to the Lasso. You remember this, raight? It's where my two favorite boys met!" An arm was tossed around my neck like a scythe and I was pulled into Sofia's boob, while Edward was introduced to her other one. Our heads almost bumped together. "Come on Emmett," she said, cocking her head. "Why don't we leave these two to be all in loooove?" Before Emmett could have a say in anything, I was released and he was pulled by the forearm and rushed out of the room all the while Sofia had already dismantled the cap from her tequila and was skipping hand-in-hand with him down the hall, despite his disability. I knew this was her way of giving Edward and I some alone time; I knew she was aware of everything and this was her way of telling me that she was here if I needed her. I got it; I got her.

"So now that the stampede's gone," said Edward, when Sofia could no longer be heard. "I guess it's just us." I smiled and signaled him over to me and he came and lay down before I snuggled into his hard chest. "I love how we're all together," I said. Edward gave me that deep chuckle and I curled further into him, into safety, into hope, into the light at the end of the tunnel. "I meant what I said, Edward. During the surprise party after Julian's surgery? I love you." Edward thoughtfully processed my words and gently pressed his lips against mine. "Jasper, you're quite possibly the dumbest, most brash, fucking emotional, complicated person I've ever met. But I wouldn't have you any other way. You know how I feel about you."

"I do?" I asked, smiling lovingly. "Say it."

"I'm not good with words."

I sighed. "Damn, well you'll just have to show me with actions."

Edward grinned widely and pressed his lips and stubbly chin into me and, what was probably against countless hospital rules, we kissed for hours on end, losing track of time and remaining curled in each other's arms until visiting hours were over and Edward was hilariously asked to leave.

We had our differences, our faults. And we had our similarities, our merits. We were two different people who had come to love each other's flaws. Edward was still, although a lot less, rash, bullish and easily frustrated and I was still, although a lot less, introverted, complicated and often in need of "alone time." I would still get furious with Ptero when he screwed off to mate with some chicks and I still found it rather hilarious when Bierce Fitch would strive for Emmett's attention only to be shuffled off as 'second best' under the shadow of the parrot. The thing was, Edward and I had changed not only as two individual people but as a couple, in ways I could never have imagined; we were more solid, less reactive and were wiling to face whatever obstacles the future had in store for us. And yet despite this, our fundamentals, our seeds, our "Jasper" and our "Edward" were still there beneath our growth.

Edward tried harder not to live for the future all the time and to enjoy the "now." I tried to open my thoughts to him and allow him into my head more often. Of course, I would confuse him with my chatter especially when he couldn't decode what exactly it was that I was saying and I would get frustrated that he couldn't understand it. But, that was exactly it. I was a complicated person and what I learned was that that wasn't something to be ashamed of. In-fact, being complicated was something to be proud of because it meant you had a collection of thoughts, feelings, dreams, goals, fears and insecurities that made you _you_ and made me _me_.

When I got out of the hospital, Edward and I had a few things to do. We both, along with Emmett, testified at Aro's trial in the murder of Julian. It killed me to relive those horrible memories of losing my dear Julian and having Aro look at me with those swampy, beady eyes made my stomach churn. And although it did nothing to ease the bereft Alice and Caleb Hart, Aro received a life sentence. But testifying and keeping Aro where he belonged was something that I needed to do, not only for me, but for Julian and his parents. I couldn't help but feel responsible for his death, deep, deep down in the clutches of my soul; regret would seep into me at banal times of the day - in the toothbrush beside the sink and in the time waiting behind a traffic light - and would remind me of what I'd indirectly caused. It took many 4am panic attacks and several hours of counseling to come to terms with what happened but life was never picture perfect. The most I could do was keep Julian close to my heart and live my life the way he lived his; as purely, lovingly and amicably as possible. Of course, I was Jasper, so I inevitable screwed up but I tried. I always tried, because I wanted to have kids one day and tell them about Julian Hart and how his light, his legacy was the brightest star in the Seattle skyline. I wanted to make Julian a role-model for them someday.

Edward and I moved out of my apartment and settled else-where in the other side of the city where it was less crowded. I quit St. Jay's Hospital despite New-Irene's pleas and nabbed a job in a small medical center where I could be hands-on with the patients and work in a more tranquil environment. Edward took up work in a law firm across the road and we met up for lunch every day. We also happened to finish at the same time and we'd walk home together. My injuries to my ribs and hip meant that sometimes I would spontaneously fall to the ground without warning and Edward would act as my crutch so we could hobble home together. We were like two old men already, in sickness and in health.

At nights, while Edward was playing video games, I would wait until he was completely lost in the virtual world before I'd slyly slide up beside him and distract him from the most advanced level by sucking on his ear-lobe and cupping his crotch. It was fun giving him a handjob while he played so that he was torn between two worlds, not wanting to entirely pull his attention from either one. Because he was Edward, jack-of-all-trades, he would often beat the level before I finished him off and he'd throw me onto the bed and have his way with me. He, however, was equally sneaky and would ask me if "my keys were in my pocket" in public so that he could pretend to search for them while touching my cock. Of course he'd wait until I was hard before he'd stop and snigger at my awkward stance and red face and apprise me of how _far_ away the bathrooms were.

Emmett also moved out of his apartment and, of course, found that the apartment beside me and Edward was available to rent and quickly forked out the down-payment. Low and behold, he was our neighbor again and so my role as the mediator between him and Edward was yet to escape me. The boys would still but heads every now and then, especially when Emmett would come "home" (which was synonymous for my and Edward's apartment) and purposely walk into the bathroom while Edward was showering just to leave the door open and piss him off. Edward thus made a conscious effort to have sex against the wall adjacent to Emmett's apartment as late as possible, just to wake him up. But with Emmett, I wasn't entirely sure if Edward realized that he may have been doing him a favor.

Somehow, after becoming an attending over a few years, Sofia managed to become the chief of surgery in a prestigious hospital in central Madrid. She often called to urge us to visit and on one occasion, Edward and I did. We had to bring Ptero and Bierce Fitch because both of them managed to get themselves diagnosed with separation anxiety. Their lives really were that sad. And of course, Emmett had to follow the week after because he too couldn't be away from us for too long. He was such a baby, but I loved him for it.

As for me, I took my own advice. I tried my best to be more open to people. My family of Edward, Emmett, Sofia, Ptero and Bierce Fitch had even expanded somewhat. The raunchy old lady, Mrs. Margins, who was a former patient of mine happened to transfer to my medical center to keep me as her doctor. When she recovered, she invited Edward and I to her home for dinner and the front door was answered by a male stripper. I thought it was hilarious but Edward was a little uncomfortable. Mrs. Margins would call me for phone chats once a week and would often demand that I go to her family reunions to "keep her sane around her annoying grand children." She was quite a character.

New-Irene also became a close friend of mine. After I left St. Jay's, she would call me with all the gossip. From there, we would meet up at lunch breaks and actually began to hit it off. She was short and round and Edward often called her "The Basketball." The most glorious moment was when he slipped up and called her this in front of her face, and she immediately shot back and said that she at least had "bigger balls" than him. Edward shut up after that and even came to respect the woman.

Beyond the friendships, the jokes, the new beginnings and the maturity, Edward and I remained a team. Not a day went by when I didn't look into his eyes and thank the higher beings that he was mine and that he loved me too. I loved every inch of him unconditionally. He was my rock, my light, my eyes and my clarity. When a storm would occupy a silent core of waiting and all I could do was prepare for what was to come, Edward would remain my shelter, my shield. When nothing made sense and when nothing was clear, Edward made things simple again; from fractions into words.

It was one night in The Lasso, on our 5th anniversary did Edward remind of me of the words I said to him in the hospital: "You're stuck with me Edward." He smiled with that beautiful jaw and passionate eyes and dropped to one knee and said, "I Edward, take you, Jasper Whitlock, to be lawfully stuck with me for the rest of our lives. To have and to hold, from this night forward, for better or for blowfish, for richer, for poorer, in tequila-based sickness and in health, until death or Emmett do us part." It was so witty, so dry and exactly something Edward would do. I of course burst into tears and Edward cursed over a dozen times and asked if he'd hurt my feelings. I laughed with salty eyes and yelped, "Yes, Edward." He of course thought I was affirming that he had in-fact offended me and when I realized this, I shuffled to clarify: "No, I mean no! Yes to your first question! No to hurting my feelings! So yes! I mean, no! Yes and no!" Sofia appeared from the corner and rolled "Ariba!" under her tongue and Edward and I were lifted off our feet by her Spanish comrades and were doused in liquors that, to this day, make me violently ill. Edward and I weren't allowed to get married but we had nothing to prove to the world; we were already like an elderly couple when we wanted to be and as far as Edward was concerned, referring to me as his "fiancé" was the norm. In fact, he made an effort to say it to people who presumed that this title referred to a woman before he'd drop the bomb and say, "yeah, _his_ name is Jasper." He said that watching some people get all awkward was funny and that it amused him greatly. I told him he was stupid, but deep down it made me love him even more, if possible.

My life before Edward seemed a distant blur. Because only now, every morning when I woke up with my face smashed into his chest, did I hear the birds and the smell the wet tarmac. Edward became my life, my soulmate, the person who I knew, who I envisioned spending every waking moment with until the very last hour, minute, moment and second. Sometimes, in life, things would never be clear. But then you'd meet a person who, with as much as a smile, could turn your world upside down and make everything right. For me, this person was Edward. And I knew that in years to come, when we were old and ugly and unnoticed by society, we would hobble against each other and climb each step one by one as they came, side-by-side. For this was the life we chose: Two people. Two souls, two lives; living them,

together.

Forever.


	23. Author's Note

**Author's Note:**

I cannot believe I am writing the final Author's note right now. I've been writing Morphine for a year now and it's hard to believe it's over. I started this story during a freak heatwave last summer; in Western Europe, such occurrences are insanely rare. After waring myself out jogging outside, I went and stared at my computer screen for a bit (you know, as you do) and then I had the idea to start this story. I didn't begin with a plan but simply kept writing and seeing where the characters would take me. After the first chapter, I began to flesh out where the story would go and then it came to be. I always knew it would be a long one and honestly, writing this story has been the most fulfilling thing I've ever done. Morphine stretched a very important period in my life as I wrote it alongside work, endless exams etc, all on top of moving from Europe to the USA. The final chapter is the only one that wasn't written in Europe and is the first/only one to be written state-side.

To everyone who followed, reviewed, subscribed, favorited, PM'd me and read the story, thank you all **_so_** much. It was you readers that helped with motivation and I'm so grateful to have had such a wonderful group of people investing in Morphine. For those of you who helped me with understanding some Danish history, geography and culture for Jasper's background, a huge thank you. For those who PM'd me with ideas for where the story would/should direct, I thank you too. And to all of you who took time out of your day to read Morphine, again, thank you.

To anyone reading this who's apprehensive to post his/her own story, my advice is to go for it. Click that upload button and start writing; it's the greatest form of escapism :-). I'm contemplating writing an original over on Fiction Press so keep an eye out :D Anyway, I thought I'd end this with a "14 things about Morphine" that might be of some interest. If not, then the story ends here and I thank you again for reading. Love you all! :-) Enjoy!

**14 Things about Morphine:**

1. "Bierce Fitch" is simply a first-letter-swap of the name "Fierce Bitch." Too bad the cat did no justice to her name ;D.

2. The chapter "Surprise!" was a surprise to me also; it wasn't part of the original plan. (This was the chapter when Emmett and Jasper got friskaay ;D.)

3. Removing Sofia mid-story was a decision made to make the plot intensify by removing the main source of comic relief. Trying to make things serious while there was a over-sexual Spanish stallion in the peripherals would've been the premise for a bad horror flick ;-).

4. Was Emmett bi? I don't really know. He definitely was clingy with Jasper, but I think when writing him, I got the impression that he was the type of guy who had intense bromances, with the exception of that one night w/Jasper. But who knooooows!

5. The mass lay-off at the hospital (when Irene and Sofia left) happened to make Jasper's environment unfamiliar and foreshadow the great changes that were soon to take place in his life.

6. The plan for the ending changed mid-story. You wouldn't have liked the original ending. I promise ;D.

7. My personal favorite chapter was "Medicinal Inspiration." But I usually critique my own writing too much to actually enjoy it. Reading Morphine for me is like watching a lion chase a zebra.. I'm just waiting for that _bam_ moment when I spot a typo.

8. New-Irene represents how change isn't always bad.

9. Of all the characters, Julian was subject to the least amount of change. Every other character deviated from the plan at one stage or another (See number 2^) but Julian never did.

10. Jasper is brunette because the fake blonde hair in Twilight is just... That is all.

11. Carlisle was originally not going to survive the surgery.

12. I was sober while writing the chapter "Octopuses."

13. Morphine was only ever written at night. Daytime is too distracting.

14. "Clear" was used in Morphine often because it was the opposite to how Jasper's mind was through-out the story until the end.

That's about it. It's been a great run. Thank you.


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